Untouched Passion
by lyricaLVirtue
Summary: Troy had nothing to live for, except dance. Seven years after his mothers death, he and his abusive father move to Los Angeles where Troy attends East High School of the Performing Arts. There he met her, the girl that changed his life forever. TxG RnR!
1. TRAILER

FULL SUMMARY:

Troy was the popular king of West High, your average school a little bit on the poor side, with a concealed passion for dance. After landing a great job, his dad decides to move to California and so Troy is forced to attend the high-class school, East High, which contains an extensive performing arts program. His skill with dance is discovered by Gabriella, another student there. But the people around him will never know his true colors. Troy doesn't let anyone enter his mind or get too close. Will his past come back and sweep it all from under his feet?

TRAILER

**Bold- Narration**

_Italics- Scenes_

Normal- Dialogue

**It seemed like Troy Bolton's life couldn't get any better**

_Shows Troy with all his friends laughing_

**He was the captain of the basketball team**

_Shoots winning basket_

**Had the beautiful girlfriend**

Troy with his arm wrapped around a pretty girl

**And the great friends**

Tons of friends surround him at birthday

**But behind closed doors things weren't really like that**

_Shows Troy fighting with dad_

_Cuts to scene where he might have possibly been doing drugs_

**He didn't let anybody enter his world completely**

"What's going on?" his father asks him.

"Nothing. Leave me alone." Troy grits his teeth.

**The only thing that nobody knew about was his talent**

_Shows Troy at underground breakdancing competition_

**Something that nobody could ever touch or see**

_Again to the dancing_

**And then he was moved away from it all**

"I got a job in California." His father said excitedly.

"What? Dad you ruin everything you always do." Troy starts for the door.

"That's not true." He defends.

"Whatever." Leaves the room.

_Cuts to when he drives to East High_

"You've got to be kidding me. East High?" Troy said.  
"Best school in the nation." His dad said proudly.

**It all started there**

_Shows dancing in ballroom at East High small girl comes in and watches_

"You're pretty good." She says.

No answer from Troy.

**But will his past come back and take it all away?**

"What is this?"

_Shows same girl holding up drug_

**Starring Zac Efron as Troy**

"I can't let you in." He whispers.

**Vanessa Anne Hudgens as Gabriella**

"You don't have what all the rest of us do. You have something else. Something that dancers would kill for. You have that passion. That fire."

**Untouched Passion**

**Coming Soon**

10 reviews and its here baby!


	2. Feeling

**Before I start I want to thank you guys for the reviews. They make me happy! When I'm happy, I get inspired and write more so here's a chunky chapter.**

**Chapter 1: Feeling**

Troy walked down the abandoned, cold black streets of West Albuquerque with his hands shoved into his pockets. He held his sweater as close to his body as possible; this time of year it was somewhat cold. Walking alone at this time of night wasn't the smartest thing to do but he had to get away. It was one of those nights and he wouldn't stick around for this one. The wind hit his face harder with every step he took on the bleak grey sidewalk. It blew with severe strength and Troy blinked to keep his view clear. He was almost there; the place where time would fly by and he wouldn't think of tonight. Not even one thought would invade his mind about what was happening in his household in this very moment. He shuddered at the thought but did not release one tear. Tears were what he resorted to before this. Before he had discovered it.

He carried on, passing many buildings keeping a cautious eye about his surroundings. There was a crack behind a car and he jumped for a moment. Then he realized there was nobody there; five more steps and nobody would jump him that night. It had grown to be a habit for him to do this but no matter how many times he walked down the same old street, he couldn't help but to think somebody would jump him. After all, it had happened before. There was no reason for them to make an exception this time.

There he was at the door; he could see the green neon lights revolving inside. He held the sweater closer to his body and tried to keep his hands warm. He didn't have enough money at the moment to buy gloves or a proper coat. His sneakers had holes in them to let the cold air in, which was great in summer, but during winter, his toes went numb. But all the numbness left his body once he saw the room and the people who crowded it. A smile overcame his face as he stepped inside. He hung his jacket, knowing that soon there would be too much heat surrounding him to wear the old thing.

"Bobby's here!" Penny yelled and that's when the dancers got intense. They started popping out every move they knew trying to impress him but Troy simply ignored them. When he danced, there was this feeling that completely controlled his body. He didn't tell it to move; it just did. It would curve and it would create the craziest of illusions. He didn't need to rehearse and he didn't need to know what his moves were called because even if he did; his body would just move in the way it wanted to.

"Alright now we can start the competition!" A buff guy came to the center of the dance floor with a microphone at hand. His blue jogging suit dragged his body and he used sunglasses to hide his face. Identities could never be revealed here. Everybody was their own person; whatever they wanted to be. This was where they lost themselves. Here, with the music, the people, that feeling; his name was Bobby. He wasn't Troy Bolton, West High School's trophy boy. Tonight, he was a dancer.

The announcer put his hand heavily on Troy's shoulder and then wrapped his hand around his neck. He moved him to the center of the room and started to say something but he couldn't hear it. All that was in ear shot was the music; it was that feeling. His competitor today was one that many had spoken of but nobody knew the name of. He wore a large black hat and as soon as he saw Troy, he twisted it to the side indicating that he was ready. Troy stood in the middle with his jeans that were greatly ripped and a simple long sleeve white t shirt. His Nike shoes started tapping along to the beat. It was coming through his toes. His cobalt blue eyes were brighter than normal as he smiled at his opponent. The boy folded his arms and pulled his basketball shorts lower than they were. He watched intently, his attention hidden by his very own sunglasses.

"Guess Bobby's first." The announcer said. Troy's legs now moved and slid from one side to the next. His feet changed directions with every second that the clock ticked away. His smile grew even larger as the feeling absorbed him. His worries were destroyed and taken away from him momentarily. Then the puppet strings and he played with his feet giving them all a show. He continued circling the room with the invisible strings in his hands playing puppets with his feet. Dancing was his addiction. It was his drug. He lost control when he let it invade him and without it he wouldn't be able to live.

**HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM**

Troy tossed around on the couch. He started to roll thinking that he was in his larger bed at his house but he was still at the car shop where he had crashed the previous night. His jacket had been draped over his back and his shoes were somewhere in the building; probably stolen. He looked up at the mess before him; several people scattered around the floor some were drunk and others simply had nowhere else to go. This place was his refuge; it wasn't just a car shop. That's why on his free time he helped Joe fix the cars. Half of them were stolen but it was the only way Troy could pay them back for all the happiness this had brought to his life.

It was almost eight o clock and he had a few minutes to walk to school. Luckily, he hadn't drunk last night and his mind was capable of reaching the school and getting through the day once more, but he would rather stay here in the car shop. If he could, he would stay there forever. One time he had tried to do that but his father found him and did something that could've made Troy stay away from the shop forever. But that was damn near impossible. Staying away from it was like asking him not to breathe.

"Joe, where are my shoes?" he asked as he scratched his head and put on his jacket. Mornings were always the coldest part of the day. If it weren't for the socks on his feet, they would've been icicles by now. Troy rubbed his eyes and looked across the room seeing if anyone had them on.

A large man with an undershirt and large pants shrugged his way, wiping a tool with a blue cloth. "I don't know. I think the guy that danced with you last night took 'em. That's what Mikey said." Joe admitted as he searched for the wrench in the orange toolbox. He went back to repairing the new red mustang in front of him and Troy sighed heavily. He placed a hand over his head and groaned.

"That's great." Troy responded sarcastically. "I'll see you after school, Joe."

Troy walked out of the car shop into the windy street raising his jacket towards his ears. They were now a reddish pink color due to the cold. His main focus at the moment was to keep his feet from hitting any broken glass or other stray objects that could possibly inhabit the street. The school was about five blocks so that was one fourth of a mile. His usual walk was longer, but he had to admit; this was the first time he walked to school without shoes. At least now he had enough reason to buy himself a new pair. He'd just have to work a few more hours at the car shop and Joe would shed some cash for him.

A light blue Audi S6 passed by him and Troy's jaw dropped. He stared at it for a moment and then ran after it as fast as he could. No matter how hard the wind whipped his face or if his feet were repeatedly hitting broken glass and were now bleeding. He ran yelling the driver's name. Troy caught up to the car and knocked on it. "Steven!" he said and the car finally came to a stop but in doing so made Troy run into it and fall back. Steven, one of the richer kids at the school, got out of the car in his fresh Hollister polo shirt and recently ironed khaki pants. He lowered his Dolce sunglasses and eyed him carefully. "Thanks, man." Troy said through the pain.

"Troy? What are you doing here?" he said as he lent him a strong hand, pulling him up off the ground. Troy took off his socks noticing two chunks of glass in his left foot. He started to pull them out in between painful groans. The first one fell to the ground spilling blood all over the ground and then he took out the other one. "Oh god, Troy. Where are your shoes?"

"Long story." Troy replied as he held his left foot in his hands trying to stop the bleeding. He wrapped the sock around it tight as Steven observed. Of course, Steven being form the better side of town, had never seen a man step in glass or walk around without shoes. Troy had seen many in his day. He lowered his foot and walked over to the car door with great effort. "Ah." He said as he sat in the car.

"I have some shoes in the back."

"Why would you drive around with shoes in your trunk, Steven? Probably expensive ones, too." Troy pointed out. Steven just rolled his eyes as he went to go grab them from the back. Troy cradled his foot glancing down at the new red coloring on his sock. "Oh take your time. It's not like anyone's going to look at this car and want to steal it."

Steven immediately got into the driver's seat with a scruffy pair of basketball sneakers. "These are my old ones. I was going to give them to you today anyway since I got a new pair. Here." He handed him the red and white Michael Jordan sneakers and Troy put them down in front of him struggling to get them on without hurting his foot.

"May I ask why you were at that side of town?" Steven questioned while looking back at him with his hands on the wheel. He had blonde hair and an oblivious attitude. He had never experienced anything that wasn't the best and that was a good quality but it could come back to hurt him, too. Sometimes people have to live through certain situations to grow stronger. Troy certainly had enough crisis for a lifetime.

"I could ask you the same thing." He replied intelligently.

"There was a huge crash on the main road. So I had to come through here." Steven explained. His tone showed some disgust when he referred to this part of Albuquerque. West High was located in this area but it was blocked off from the rest of it. It was absolutely nothing like Joe's repair shop. Not even close to that lifestyle. West High was basically an East side school located on the west side. But it was undeniably one of the best.

"Same." Troy lied. "My shoes were just stolen. You know." He added. Nobody would ever know that he danced and he didn't plan on telling anybody. His closest friends would never even guess. His father, especially his father, did not know. Dancing was a secret and would unfortunately remain a secret. Joe had suggested Troy audition for a few things; he obviously had the talent, but it wasn't for him. Troy's destiny was to get through school and be a regular guy as far from his father as possible.

**HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM**

"Joe, where's the needle for the pump? The tire's flat." Troy said. He had a black undershirt and his repairman suit was at his waist, the sleeves tied around him. His face that was normally clean was now covered in black grease and his hands were even worse. Working at the car shop was something he usually looked forward to and there was always the part where it would delay his arrival at home. "Joe!"

"What? It's over there by the screwdriver. You got eyes, boy! Use 'em." He replied as he came out; wiping tools as usual. Joe always used tools when they were clean, rid of rust, dust, and any grease that would decrease the quality of his work. Troy looked over at where he had told him the needle was located at, and sure enough it was there. He quickly grabbed it and jammed it into the tire as he pumped it, his large muscles flexing as he did so. "Troy, why you always hanging around here? Why don't you go be with your friends? Strangest seventeen year old boy I've ever met." Joe shook his head as he went to clean the motor. He was one of the only people around this place that knew his real name. He had to be careful with who he told because if it ever got out that Troy Bolton was an underground dancer, his life would be ruined. Troy continued to pump the tire.

"They're fine without me, Joe." He stated. "One day I'm going to get out of this mess. No offense." He said, putting the pump and feeling the tire to see if it needed more air. "I'm going to be somebody, you know? Sky's the limit." Troy smiled at the thought. He didn't want to be part of this scene. He needed to get away from it all but as hard as he tried, he couldn't.

"Sure." Joe said from the motor. "But don't forget about us, now." He said

"Never. How could I forget this place? If it wasn't for this, I really don't know what I would do." Troy admitted. It was true. Without Joe's repair shop his life would mean nothing. Before this place he had his mother. But she died when he was eight, ever since he had been coming to this part of the streets and dancing.

"You'd be just another white boy who couldn't dance." Joe chuckled and Troy shook his head smiling.

"Laugh now. You'll see." He went to put back the needle. He glanced down at his watch; it was almost six o'clock. He nearly died of the shock when he saw that. Troy looked out the window and saw that it was almost dark out. His heart beat raced with his breathing. "I got to go, Joe. Old man's going to kill me." Joe lifted a hand as if to wave and Troy took off the repair suit revealing the same pair of ripped blue jeans. He grabbed his coat and ran down the streets to his house. "Literally." He added.

Troy burst through the front door to find the television on and a masculine figure sitting on the couch. He was still panting and unsure of whether or not he should take another step. Before he could decide, his father turned around but to his amazement, he was smiling. Troy frowned at the sight. It was all wrong; his father would never smile his way. He got up and spread his arms out grandly. "Troy!" he yelled.

"Dad?" he asked and took a few steps. There was no way that he was going to hug his dad. He took the hint and rested his hands by his sides looking around uncomfortably. Troy could've sworn he was drugged by his actions. "What's going on?"

"I have great news, son. Great news." He said. Troy waited for him to say something else. His father smiled. "I got a job." Troy was paralyzed. His father actually managed to be hired for a job? What idiot would hire him? The point was he got a job to replace his old waiter one. Troy could decrease the amount of hours he worked at the repair shop now, not that he wanted to. "In California." Troy stopped breathing. The repair shop hours would be more decreased than what he imagined.

**Sorry about the cliffhanger. I tried to make this long as you guys see. Please please please please please please please please pleaaaaaaasssssssseeee REVIEW! Thanks guys!**

**LV :)**


	3. To Be Someone

**Chapter 2: To Be Someone**

"We're moving there next week." His father built up the anxiety more every time he opened his mouth. Troy was in disbelief.

"What do you mean we're moving there next week?" He said slowly stuttering trying to contain his temper and restrain his emotions.

"It means that I got a job in California and we are going on a plane there next Friday." His father said for him to understand better. "Actually I'm leaving Thursday. You are coming up Friday."

"Dad, do you always have to ruin things? Why can't you just leave me alone?" Troy said raising his voice which he would later regret. "I have an idea; you go to California and I will stay here." He said nervously not wanting to admit his defeat.

"And what? So that you can stay here with those criminals? The guys at the car shop? I know that you've been going there, Troy; I'm not an idiot." His smile had completely faded by now. The tension was tangible as their voices rose each time they spoke. Both men were on a rampage yelling at one another to get their points across.

"Really? I couldn't tell by your face."

His father gritted his teeth and dashed towards Troy with a strong clenched fist. His left hand swung at his face and Troy ducked as quickly as possible, his father's hand grazing his hair. Before Troy could do anything else, he was kicked in the ribs, the pain screaming down his body. Not because it hurt, but because he knew that things would never change. He knew that this was his life and nothing would change that. As his father stood there, in front of him, hitting him with all the strength in his body, anger overcame Troy. He picked himself up and stood tall, his eye now bruised by the three hits that had pounded his skin there. But that was only a minor example of what his father could do when he was angry.

"Don't you _ever_ talk to me like that again!" He said with force. "Get out. Out of the house." Troy stood in agony gripping his aching side. "Now!"

As Troy was already planning on leaving he didn't even look back at his distraught father and slammed the door shut behind him as he left. He was actually thankful for his father to tell him to leave; he wouldn't have to put up with him when he got drunk. It was like a daily routine now that he was used to; his father would beat him, get drunk or high depending on his mood, and then Troy would sneak back into the house occasionally if he wasn't spending the night in the repair shop garage.

**HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM**

Troy got inside of the red mustang and started the engine. It roared weakly and Joe moved around a bit near the motor. "I can't believe he's serious. There's no way I'm going to California." He stated as he moved out of the car. His mentor didn't look up at him once and almost seem to ignore what he was saying. "Joe, are you listening?" Troy asked. Joe looked up from his work and stared at him for a moment before returning to fix the motor. "It's so stupid." Troy carried on.

"Will you shut up?" he finally replied. Troy looked at him with a surprised expression on his face.

"What?"

"Shut up, man." Joe shook his head. "Let me tell you somethin'." He moved towards Troy with his dirty blue rag in his hand wiping off the wrench. "You have no idea how good you have it; you got a house, you goin' to school. Hell, you can do anything you damn well please." Joe poked him in his chest with the greasy wrench and Troy moved back slowly. "Troy, you're goin' to California, man. There are so many opportunities just screaming your name but you are talking as if it were the end of the world because you can't stay in this hell hole repair shop." He slammed the car with his last words. "You always talkin' about gettin' out of here and making something out of yourself, so do it. So shut up and do it. Think about it, man." Joe said, impacting Troy. He turned on the ignition and the car rumbled steadily and healthily.

"Yeah." Troy mumbled.

He dropped his rag and left Joe to work on the mustang. As he left the shop, he brought his thin coat along with him dragging it over his shoulder. Music echoed through his ears as he walked towards the park. He turned the corner to find a few break dancers choreographing to some music. Troy couldn't help but to look their way. Just what he needed; a pure, talented dance. He smiled watching the three guys dance, their bodies adding their own style to every step of the dance. And then he remembered that in not even a week, but four days he would be gone and moved away from it all. The streets had always been part of him, ever since his mother's death, and now he would leave it behind just like he had to leave her behind.

The music was turned up louder, making Troy forget all his thoughts. He started tapping his feet to the beat and then nodding his head trying to gain perspective over the rhythm before his body started to lose control. The three men turned to look at him and automatically stopped.

"What you doin', white boy?" they asked surrounding him.

"Hey, no need to get all defensive, man. Just watchin'." Troy admitted. He wasn't scared when confronted anymore; he could obviously take a beating. It was the guns that he was afraid of. Not even the gun itself, but the gunshots. It was an ear shattering noise that drained out his insides.

"No you can't just watch! Show us what you got, white boy." They stepped back. Troy smiled knowingly. They had no idea what was coming their way. The feeling wouldn't come at this very second but he knew the perfect move to trigger it. He pulled down the sleeves of his jacket so that it covered his hands; doing this move could damage his hands. He bent his body backwards and gave a smooth jump. Every body part seemed to move at its own pace creating its own move as it rippled down and back to the ground. There it was; sparking inside of him. The beauty of the back flip filled him inside, healing all the wounds his father's hand had created. This was where he wanted to be, but where he needed to be was California. Joe was right, it was his chance of becoming something great. He wouldn't do it for anyone else but himself.

**HSM..HSMH..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM**

_Few Days Later_

"Baby, you can't go!" she whined. The girl wrapped her arms around his neck, almost hanging from it. "I'm going to miss you so much!" Tracey said. Tracey was his almost-girlfriend. They had dated a few times, but there was always something to conflict with their relationship. Either way, it wasn't the time to be in a steady relationship when Troy could barely handle his own life. He had grown close to her, but he never developed true feelings for the brunette girl. Leaving his friends wasn't a huge deal for Troy; he had never let anyone know him, so that way it was easier to let go.

"We're losing our star basketball player." Steven said as he approached him and the girl beside him. "I can't believe your leaving tomorrow." He stated, looking down at his feet.

"Me neither." Troy mumbled.

"Well, listen, the team wanted you to have this." Steven said, revealing the MVP ring. It was a prized possession of the school and was kept at the coach's office until the most valuable player on the basketball team left the school. The light reflected off of it, shining into Troy's eyes. He had always wanted that ring. It had an elegance and strength about it. He took it into his rough hands and slipped it on; it fit perfectly.

"Thanks, man." Troy shook his hand and Steven gave him a friendly nod. "I guess this is goodbye." His friends waved to him as he walked out of West High. As the grey doors slammed shut behind him, he finally realized that he would never return here again. That had been his last time in the hallways of West High School and, in a way, he was thankful.

"To California." He whispered.

Before going to his home, he stopped by at the repair shop to bid farewell to his friends. He had grown with them and the repairmen had been there for him since he was eight years old. Now, nine years later, he left abruptly and left them in the dust. This was his home and it was harder for him to leave this place than his actual house.

Troy examined every inch of the car shop trying to keep it in his memory so that the next time he needed it, he could picture the people moving to the beat of the music, the undying heat, and the many times he had slept on the black leather couch when his father was in one of his moods. The men moved noisily about but then realized Troy was there. The repair shop fell entirely silent; they all knew this was the last time they would see each other after being through so much.

Joe put down all his tools for once in his life and walked towards Troy extending his hand. "You're a great kid, Troy." They shook hands and Joe pulled him in. "And that dancing of yours…man, that's a gift. Don't let anyone take that away from you. No rich California kids will ever have as much talent and as much strength as you." Joe advised. Troy gave him a hard nod and shook his hand firmly.

"Thanks, Joe. Don't worry; I'll come back one day."

"Before you come back, I want to see your name in headlines. Don't you come back here without fulfilling your dream or else I'll give you a hard beating." He chuckled. The aging man, was actually hurt on the inside. Troy had been like a son to him.

"It's a deal." He smiled back. And those were the last three words he had said while in West Albuquerque.

**I know that this chapter kind of sucked…sorry. The next chapter will be his arrival and his first day at East High. I might toss in the encounter with Gabriella. I just don't want it to move too fast. Please please please review! **


	4. Twenty Questions

**Chapter 3: Twenty Questions**

Troy sat on the old leather seats with his forehead resting against the door of the cab watching the scenery pass him by. He observed every inch of the land and compared it to where he used to live. This place was more glamorous and more artistic than West Albuquerque, but if given the choice he would've stayed there, even if Joe didn't want him to. But that didn't matter because he wasn't returning; he was in California on his way to his new home in the outskirts of Los Angeles. They didn't own a house here; they lived in a very small apartment complex.

His breath hit the window as he continued to watch the thousands of trees and buildings that had passed him on his way to the apartment complex. He wished he could just forget the world and forget what he had ever been taught. He wanted to be able to see the world without any guidance and be able to make his own judgment.

"What school ya goin' to, kid?" the cabdriver asked a distraught Troy.

"I don't know." He said plainly in response. The cabdriver took the hint and remained quiet for the rest of the ride home as Troy thought about what is actual school was. His guess was that it'd be filled with snobbish Californian rich kids. It was definitely a safe bet.

The cab came to a stop in front of a white building about twelve stories high. Troy got out of the vehicle and sighed as he saw the luxury that was Los Angeles. It was unbelievable that they could afford a home like this, but his father's boss had given them some extra money to settle in. Troy wondered what would happen when the money ran out and his father went back to his old ways.

"Ehem." The driver cleared his throat for Troy to pay him. Troy turned around to look at him as he shoved his hand into his pocket to reveal a twenty dollar bill. "It's thirty." He stated. Troy angrily reached in again to reveal two five dollar bills that were crumpled up and dropped them in the cab driver's hand.

"Happy?" he asked with an annoyed expression as the driver unloaded the trunk with Troy's rigid and scruffy looking luggage. He threw them on the ground in front of him and pulled down his hat as if to say goodbye. "Thanks for the help, man." He said sarcastically as he picked up the bag that the greedy cab driver had thrown.

He dragged the bag behind him as he approached the entrance to the building. As soon as he was a foot away the doors opened automatically to reveal a lightly furnished but beautifully designed lobby. It had clean crème colored marble tiles and beige walls to match. Troy went to the woman at the front desk and she looked at him with an appalled face.

"Bolton residence." He said.

The woman nodded as she looked the name up on her computer. "Troy?" he replied and the woman turned away to continue her search. After a few minutes she said, "Floor six, apartment number 604. This note was left for you." She said as she gave him a piece of notebook paper with a few words scribbled on it.

_Troy, the keys are under the rug. I'll be home late tonight. You start school Monday; all your stuff is in your room in boxes. It's your job to unload them. ---Jack Bolton_

Jack Bolton hated when Troy called him father or dad. In fact, he squinted at the sound of the word. This is the reason why Troy would use the two words when they were fighting because it aggravated his father so much. Other than that, he called him Jack, because, truly, he wasn't anything near a father figure. As for as Troy was concerned; Jack Bolton was just some guy that he had known since birth that gave him a place to sleep occasionally. He didn't expect anything more and anything less.

Troy entered the elevator with his single bag and pressed the number 6, closing his eyes as it went up. He wished that the elevator would never open again and that he could just stay here for a while, not having to think about absolutely anything. But that wish became impossible when the doors opened at level 5 to reveal a young girl about his age. The girl was probably not as mature and had been raised properly with her mommy and daddy by her side through it all.

She flashed him a smile as she stepped in. "Hi." She said cheerfully and Troy looked up from the floor.

"Hey," he said hoping that the elevator would reach his floor faster.

"Did you just move here?" the girl asked, her cascading black curls shining off of the light.

"Yes."

"How old are you?" She asked pushing her hair away from her face to reveal a pair of deep chocolate brown eyes that Troy stared into.

"Seventeen." He answered growing annoyed.

"Where'd you move from?"

"What is this? Twenty questions?" he asked harshly and the girl was silenced when the elevator doors opened. Troy grabbed his suitcase and exited leaving the brunette girl alone and astonished at his rude behavior.

But Troy could care less; he wasn't here to make friends, but to survive and right when he turned eighteen he would move as far away from his dad to New York City. He had dreamt of it ever since his mother told him how wonderful it was. It was the city that never slept that had thousands of lights and life booming from every corner of the streets mixing in with the boisterousness of the cars and continuous footsteps of the pedestrians.

**HSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSM**

He played with the ring on his index finger as he pretended to listen to what Jack Bolton was saying. Troy was lost in his thoughts tuning out whatever word came out of his father's mouth. He was somewhat nervous about his first day; he hadn't bothered to ask Jack what school he was going to or where it was located. Apparently it was deep within the city of Los Angeles; in the city. At least he would have something to do after school with all the stores and such surrounding the school. Troy looked up at his window noticing that the buildings had faded away and were now behind him. He looked ahead to find himself looking at a red and white building with a metal gate that read, "East High School of the Performing Arts". His jaw dropped as he stared at it in amazement.

"You've got to be kidding me." Was all he managed to say. "East High?"

"Best school in the nation." Jack said proudly even though he could really care less about where his son attended school. But the fact that Troy would be a student at East High would earn him extra pointers with his co-workers and would up his status. So he unfortunately had to pull a few strings to get his son in here.

"East f—ckin high?" Troy repeated as they approached the school. "There's no way." He could not hide it. Not only was he going to a school in California in the center of Los Angeles but he was going to a performing arts school; his life couldn't get any worse.

"They have a regular part of the school, too. It isn't all crazy art geeks." His father chuckled. Troy offensively gritted his teeth.

The rusted car pulled up to the front and his father waited for Troy to get out. He kicked the door open and pulled his backpack over his left shoulder as he gazed at the doors that would reveal a whole new world. He heard a few laughs coming from some students that found the fact that his father owned an average car amusing. Troy gave them a deathly stare and they quieted down. He didn't mean to, but no Californian arrogant kids were going to laugh at Troy Bolton.

He didn't know why, but he wanted to impress them in a way. Troy wanted to show them all that he was just as great as them and he was capable of the same exact things. He straightened his long sleeve navy blue shirt and looked down at Steven's old pair of sneakers. Then he entered through the doors.

Troy had never witnessed anything like this; people played music in the halls and danced to their lockers. Melodic voices filled the hallways with echoing sounds. Then he wondered why he was attending this school if he didn't major in anything arts related. He could qualify for the dance program but he didn't do the type of dancing they did. No, he was just going to be one of the regulars who simple attended classes and maybe played a few sports.

He passed by one of the dance rooms and saw a series of dancers move simultaneously to one beat. Troy smiled at the sight and then continued on through the hall. It was certainly a different experience. Something hard hit him in the chest and Troy was sent backwards.

"Watch it, man." Troy said involuntarily. The tall boy stood in front of him and rolled his eyes.

"What did you say?" Troy just looked at him in the eyes but didn't say another word. "I thought so." The anger that boiled inside of Troy was uncontrollable and he couldn't help but to hold his fists tight, but he knew better than to get into trouble on the first day.

---

The whole day had been a complete nightmare. The teachers rambled about things that Troy had no clue about and the other students smirked and laughed at him whenever they got the opportunity. All of the arts kids ignored him because they were too indulged with their talents. That left Troy alone, roaming the hallways with trouble trying to find his classes. Now, the school day was over but Jack wouldn't come and pick him up. His choices were to walk endlessly and hope to find his way to the apartment complex, stay at the school and pray that Jack would return for him, or call a cab that would give him the ride without him having to pay. Troy had no money, no car, and no sense of direction. In all three choices he was screwed.

He traveled back down the halls that were now entirely empty since all of the students had left. Troy headed for the doors but then something caught his ear. It was music with a fluctuating rhythm and beat. It was a combination of hip hop and classic that pleased him. He saw where it was coming; the empty dance room. Troy decided he might as well go in since time was not a problem.

His feet moved in a circle around him one after the other and his body in a completely different direction. It was like a whirlwind coming from the center of his body. Troy kept spinning and spinning until his feet came to a halt and told him to twirl in the air while his body was in a vertical manner. He did as he was told and landed the flip incredibly. Following the flip, he did a few 'stepping' moves and went into a back flip. As he was about to land, something tore him away; a clapping noise. He fell to the ground with his chest on the hard wood.

"Are you okay?" a girl's voice came. Troy lifted himself up to look the girl in the face. It was the same one from the elevator. He just couldn't get away from her.

"I'm fine."

"Aren't you that kid from the complex?" she asked, coming closer to him with concerned eyes.

"Yeah. You really love that game don't you?" Troy asked smartly and the girl stood questioningly. "Twenty questions?"

She giggled softly. "I'm just kind of talkative, I guess." Troy didn't crack a smile. He just looked over at his backpack wanting to pick it up and leave, but the music drew him closer. "So you go to East High now?" He didn't respond but bent down to tie his shoe. "Do you major in dance?"

"No."

"You're pretty good." She stated. The girl attempted small talk but Troy wasn't very helpful. "I'm Gabriella."

"Troy." He replied.

"Do you like to dance, Troy?"

"Not really." He lied as he headed for the door. Gabriella ignored his leaving and turned the music louder. "What are you doing?" He asked her.

"Practicing. This is my music that I left on while I went to go get changed. You kind of came here and started dancing to it." She smiled at him knowing she had finally won him over. She began to dance and thrusting her body forward but her legs pointed behind her. Then it switched as she came down and landed the jump entering into a series of turns with a final kick in the air in which she threw her head back and then her two feet met again on the floor. Her hair that was once in a neat ponytail was now coming apart. "I dance, too."

**OKAY! I'm so sorry I haven't updated it's just that school and soccer and drama is so busy. I tried to give you guys what you wanted here and the next chapter will be better. Sorry that this one kind of sucked….but PLEASE review. If you guys hadn't reviewed so much I probably wouldn't have written this before I had to go to some extra Drama class thing. **


	5. The Get Up Kids

**Chapter 4: The Get Up Kids**

"You're okay." Troy said, concealing his admiration for the eloquent dancer before him. Gabriella smiled and shook her head.

"There really is no soft spot is there? You're all jerk." She said turning away from him, as she pressed a frustrated finger on the radio.

"If the meaning of jerk means someone who doesn't compliment you on your every mediocre amateur move or doesn't encourages you and fills your head with dreams and a bunch of things that you will probably never have. Then yes; I am a jerk." Was his acrimonious answer.

Gabriella didn't say a word but simply took her duffle bag and left Troy in the empty ballroom with nothing but the sound of the air conditioning system and her fading echoing footsteps. Glancing around the room, he finally realized he was alone. The lights flickered on and off and Troy decided that the school was closing. He pulled his back pack on over his shoulder and with one last flicker the lights turned off leaving the room in complete darkness.

HSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSM

His pace quickened as he ran down the street as fast as he could, angry yells following after him. Troy ran faster and struggled to keep his backpack on his shoulders without materials falling out. The cab driver shouted a few curse words holding a fist in the air and Troy smirked at the image. After noticing that the cab driver had given up and left, he slowed down, panting with exhaustion.

Troy looked down at the sidewalk as his hands rested on his knees. He gathered himself before entering the complex. He had done it plenty of times before; ditching the cab without paying. He felt somewhat guilty for his actions and cheating people out of their money wasn't something he particularly took pleasure in, but times such as these called for desperate measures. Thirty dollars less in the cabdriver's bank account wouldn't kill anybody.

Opening his eyes, he saw his literature book laying in front of him as if begging to be read. His teacher had assigned it that day and said he had to work hard to be at the level of his other classmates. Troy was just as smart as any of them. That stereotypical teacher just didn't think an average boy from West Albuquerque would be able to successfully interpret Harper Lee's To Kill a Mockingbird, which, from his knowledge, didn't mention anything about a mockingbird.

He picked it up and headed inside, hoping to be able to lay in bed without his father's tormenting voice vibrating through his ears. But Troy knew not to get his hopes up and there would be nothing to assuage his need for rest, so he entered the apartment knowing that his father would have left yet another demanding note.

_I told the people on the floor below that you'd help out with their chores. We need extra money, so do it as soon as you find this note. They're waiting.---Jack_

A green apple caught the corner of Troy's eye and he licked his lips with desire. He greedily grabbed it and wished it would diligently diminish his worries. Ripping the note to shreds, Troy grabbed the apartment keys and ventured off down stairs.

The door opened to reveal a familiar face. Troy sighed and cursed his luck in his head numerous times. The girl folded her arms and frowned at the sight. No words managed to escape their lips until the door opened wider, where another, much taller, woman stood.

"You must be Troy." She kindheartedly smiled his way but Troy showed no emotion. She gesticulated him into the room and her daughter retrieved to her own bedroom where she would be away from Troy's vision. "I have a few things for you to do while I go back to the office. First, I need you to vacuum." The dark haired women read from a list as Troy's mind wandered. At the word vacuum, though, he was awakened.

"Vacuum?"

"Yes,"

"The whole floor?"

"Yes." She nodded. "Also wash the dishes and put the whites into the laundry. Hmm." The single mother stood pensively. "That should be good for today." A white sheet of paper was placed in Troy's hand by the woman and she passed by him grabbing her black leather purse and Dolce sunglasses. "Oh. Forgive me; I didn't introduce myself properly. I'm Sandra Montez. My daughter, Gabriella, will probably be in her room reading or dancing. Alright, bye bye." She left, the door hitting its hinges with a hard slam. Troy looked at his surroundings and pushed his hair away from his eyes.

"Vacuum. Right." He stepped into the hallway and saw nothing but glistening marble tiles showing his grungy reflection. The walls had an antique yet modern touch, and paintings of flowers decorated the walls. He walked softly as if one loud step would cause the room to tumble down. Troy counted the doors as he passed by them; there was approximately seven. It was a rather large apartment and very luxurious by the looks of it. As he reached the end, the sound of music came to his ears. He recognized the tune almost immediately; it had been one of his favorites when he was younger; I'll Catch You by The Get Up Kids. Your average song, steady beat song. It had no twist and no melodic surprises but that made it constant and a feeling of sameness that Troy could hardly ever find.

"The vacuum is over there." Gabriella said as Troy realized that he had been standing outside her room. "I would appreciate it if you didn't stand by my door and stared." She pointed out, but Troy didn't argue with his reasoning. He turned his back and found the forest green appliance standing there miserably. Finding an outlet by the closet, he plugged it in and turned it on. It roared with life, sucking anything in it's pass. The music was overcome by the vacuum and the pleasant tune was no longer within earshot. Apparently, Gabriella couldn't hear it either because she stormed out with clenched fists.

"Can you please keep it down?" She said as politely as she could.

"No." Troy said truthfully.

"Do you _want_ me to hate you?"

"No."

"Then what is it? Why are you such a complete (BAD WORD WARNING) asshole?" Troy's eyebrows were raised as that last word slipped her mouth. Gabriella didn't seem like the type of girl who would obtain such a dirty mouth. "Tell me 'cause I'd really like to know."

"I don't know." He replied impartially.

"Enlighten me, Troy." Her arms were crossed and that trace of happiness was no longer visible on her delicate face.

"Look, you're mom told me to vacuum and that's what I'm going to do." Troy couldn't help but to smile. Taunting her was actually quite amusing. She grunted and stomped back to her room. "Glad to be of help!" He yelled after her, chuckling to himself. Shortly after, the door slammed and Gabriella turned the music up louder this time playing a more up beat song that was more appropriate for the time; Goodnight Goodnight by Hot Hot Heat

So Goodnight Goodnight

You're embarrassing me,

You're embarrassing you

So Goodnight Goodnight

Walk away from the door,

Walk away from my life

So Goodnight

Troy switched the boisterous vacuum back on and held it by Gabriella's door purposefully. The sound was once again drowned out and Troy smiled knowing she had been defeated. Surprisingly, she opened the door.

"Seriously, go home." She shut it in his face, and the whisper of the door hit his nose violently.

"Nah. I'll just hang around here for a while, listening to your lame music." Troy lied.

The door hinges creaked and Gabriella's emotion still hadn't changed, in fact, she was more in rage than ever. "An idiot like you can't appreciate good music. So go listen to your hip hop rap or whatever. 'Go pop some bottles and get some hoes'." She mimicked as Troy laughed.

"That's not what I listen to." He emphasized and Gabriella ignored his claim. "If you're so deep and you only listen to 'meaningful' music then you will tell me what internationally renounced band sang the song Open Arms. Classic rock, you should know." Troy said intelligently.

"Journey. Now go away." Gabriella said.

Troy clapped obnoxiously as Gabriella rolled her eyes. "Good job. I guess you are a long lost soul looking for an escape through music and dance. Oh, I feel such sympathy for you." He said sarcastically. He could see her teeth grit and her muscles tighten with fury.

"Honestly—"

"Cartel." He cut her off. "Honestly is a song by Cartel."

"I see you've done your homework and if you leave me alone I just might play that song for you." Gabriella offered.

"Nah. That's a bad song anyway." He responded.

"Are you kidding me? Cartel is a great band and Honestly is one of their greatest songs." She argued, astonished at his previous reply.

"No, Say Anything Else, was an acceptable song, but Cartel isn't a memorable nor great band at all." He refuted making his knowledge of music known to her.

"Yes, they are. I bet you're into stuff like All Time Low. Those guys are really and truly at an All Time Low."

Troy said stepping back and using a charm that wasn't appealing to Gabriella. "You see, we disagree again. All Time Low is an amazing band."

"All their songs are exactly the same! There's nothing different about them."

"Oh because Cartel is so different and wonderful."

"As a matter of fact; yes. You know what? I'm done arguing with you. Just leave and I'll finish the chores. Troy nodded and dropped the vacuum, leaving the apartment eager to reach his own house. Before he put a foot out of the door, he heard her voice and turned around, "The Get Up Kids." She called and soon appeared in the living room. "What about them?"

"The Get Up Kids were actually one of my favorite bands." Troy replied remembering that she had just played their song moments ago. A smile tugged at her lips but Troy thought nothing of it and continued with his departure.

"Mine, too." She whispered.

**WOW I'M SORRY I HAVEN'T UPDATED IN FOREVER. This chapter is NOT my best but take it or leave it. Review like crazay!**


	6. Hell Froze Over

Troy entered his plainly decorated room

Troy entered his plainly decorated room. There was a lack of furniture; nothing but an air mattress with blue sheets lay in the middle of the room and a brown basket with his clothes stood next to it. His CD player and a few books were tossed on top of his bed, he didn't have time to pick it up and even if he did, there was nowhere to put it, but on the carpet.

He lay on the mattress, his arms crossed behind his head substituting for a pillow since he did not own one. Meanwhile, his father had an actual mattress with substantial pillows. But now, there was never anything for Troy Bolton. His selfish father would never contemplate giving anything to his son.

Guilt overcame him as he recalled the evening's events. Maybe he shouldn't have spoken to the girl with such rancor and bitterness. Maybe politeness wouldn't have hurt; he could've just finished the chores quietly. But it was so bothersome when someone underestimated him. Why didn't anyone think he could make it in this world? He wasn't another pothead imbecile. He tossed in his bed, trying to get comfortable in the gradually deflating mattress. He had just taken a shower, as fast as he could so that the water bill didn't come too high. Troy hadn't eaten anything since the apple and he was hungry. He knew his father wasn't planning on bringing him a meal. One more night without food wouldn't make a difference.

Troy pushed his wet hair away from his eyes and stared at his silver cd player. Incredibly outdated as it was, it still had a CD that he had enjoyed since he was eight years old. He had burned it after his mother's death. Something to block out his father's loud hollering during the nights where he had no escape. But he didn't want to listen to it. He didn't feel like sinking into this depression. The only thing he could think of doing was finding some place in the considerably glorious city of Los Angeles that would even slightly resemble Joe's repair shop. He wanted to call the guys there, but he didn't own a telephone.

The doorbell unexpectedly rang, and Troy lazily raised himself from the bed and made the short walk to the front door. He pulled the door knob and saw Gabriella. Not exactly the time when he wanted to apologize. The only reason that he would talk to her was if she had any food with her. And she didn't.

"Here. Thanks for all the help," she handed him an envelope. Troy shut the door, uncaring if she was angry or not. She had volunteered to do the work. But he still felt remorse for what he had done. He opened the envelope it held forty dollars inside and a note from Sandra.

_Thank you so much, Troy. Everything was done perfectly! I put an extra twenty in there for you. Please come tomorrow. –Sandra Montez_

He sighed. Troy pulled open the navy blue painted door. Gabriella's figure was slowly turning the hall, in search of the elevator. He went after her in a jogging pace. "Gabriella." He called. He could feel her coming to a halt, unsure if whether or not she should stay to hear him. He held the twenty dollar bill in her hand, ready to hand it to her no matter how difficult it was. After all, that twenty dollar bill would buy him dinner for at least two nights. But it was wrong to take it. "I don't deserve this," he said.

Gabriella was speechless. She took the bill, unknowing of how to react. "Are you sure?" she said. There was no hint of sarcasm or hatred in her voice.

"Not really, so take it before I change my mind. That twenty dollar bill is the key to my nutrition," he replied in a more comical tone, lightening the tension that had once engulfed them only hours before.

"Take it, we have plenty of money," Gabriella said. "I mean, not that we're rich. It's just…Just take it before I change my mind and remember what a jerk you were earlier," she said smiling and holding out the money. Troy took it with gratitude.

"Thank you," he said.

"Wow, it has manners," she said with heavy sarcasm this time and walked away towards the elevator. Troy remained rooted to the spot, a smile that scarcely appeared, was visible on his bronze cheeks. He was looking at the twenty dollar bill and then back at her. The metal doors of the elevator opened and she waved towards him. "See you around, Troy," she said.

"Yeah," he replied, returning to his apartment to grab his shoes and go out for a proper, well acceptable, meal. McDonalds would suffice for this night. At least it was more than a measly apple.

**HSM.HSM.HSM.HSM.HSM.HSM.HSM.HSM.HSM.HSM.HSM.HSM.HSM.HSM.**

"Jack, get up!" Troy said, tossing a shirt to his so-called father. "Jack, don't screw this one up too!" he yelled. His father groaned, tossing in his bed and burying his face in the pillow next to him. "Get up!" He shook his back and his father turned.

"Shut up, Troy. Leave me alone," Jack Bolton replied drowsily.

"You get fired, we're on the streets. Don't you get it? God, it's like talking to a wall!" Troy said. He felt so helpless. He didn't have a license; Jack wouldn't pay for his driving lessons. Of course, he had learned to drive, but you can't get by without a license in Los Angeles. It was useless. Troy would get kicked out of school for excessive absences and Jack would get kicked out of his job. Troy knew that this would happen eventually, his father's firing, but it couldn't come now. Not yet. "JACK!"

"F-ck, Troy! Get off my back. Get in the car; I'll be there in a few minutes," he said, finally rising from the bed and pulling off his shirt. Troy had succeeded but this wasn't the only obstacle he would have to overcome. He could already envision many difficult mornings as well as afternoons.

Troy obediently left the room more tranquil than he had been moments ago. His headphones where in his ears and his hair, for once, had been combed back. His clothes were still the same rugged way it was before; another plain white t-shirt with jeans and a brown jacket. Nothing different from the rest of his analogous wardrobe.

He opened the door to the car and sat in the passenger's seat, awaiting his father's arrival. He looked down at his four dollar Spiderman watch and realized that he would be late for his first period. If Troy was going to get anywhere, he had to prove his punctuality and determination, which seemed like a difficult task due to his father's laziness.

He stared outside of his window, looking at the expensive cars drive by him: corvettes, Mercedes, Hummers. It was incredible how they could afford to live in this place. A black car passed next to the one he was sitting in. He could tell who was driving it; the infamous Gabriella Montez. He turned away, rolling his eyes. She had it so easy. He stared down at the ripped, cheap leather on the seat he sat in. The car had scratches everywhere, nothing respectable about it.

As Troy criticized the features of the vehicle, his father got into the car, practically half-asleep and turned on the ignition, driving away. "God, kid, can't you wait?"

Troy didn't reply. He knew it was useless to reason with his father. He simply leaned his head on the window and sighed once more. Another miserable day at East High School only to come home to chores and his father.

**HSM.HSM.HSM.HSM.HSM.HSM.HSM.HSM.HSM.HSM.HSM.HSM.HSM.HSM.**

"Troy walked out of East High again wondering how he would reach the complex. The cab was out of the question because he only had a few dollars on him. It was time to search for the nearest car shop. Or any place to sleep for that matter. He stared down at the red and white Michael Jordan sneakers that he had been given only a few weeks ago. He had been unhappy and angry, but at least he had dancing. Here, even in an arts school, he had nothing, but an occasional amusing argument with Gabriella Montez.

"Hey, Troy!" she called. There she was again. It seemed that she would never fade away into nonexistence no matter how hard he tried to ignore her. Yesterday had just been a cordial and kind gesture, but that didn't mean they would become friends. Just another acquaintance was Gabriella Montez. "What time are you getting picked up?" she asked.

"Never," he replied truthfully.

"Oh come on, seriously." she said. Gabriella didn't seem to understand his situation, and he didn't plan on informing her about it.

"Really, I walk," he added.

"Yeah, sure," she said struggling to keep up with his pace. He wasn't going anywhere; he was just attempting to lose her. "Listen, a few of the dancers are inside and I told them that you would come," she said.

Troy was shocked. "Well tell them it was a joke because I'm not coming," Troy stated with force. As much as he wanted to, if his father found out about his dancing, his life would be utter chaos.

"What will it take?" she said careful where she was stepping. She only had dancing socks on her feet and spandex shorts with a long sleeve shirt.

"For hell to freeze over," Troy said. Gabriella rolled her eyes and began to walk back inside when Troy decided to call her back.

"There is one thing." He said. She turned waiting for him to continue and reveal his reasoning. "I need a ride home," he said.

"That's it? Really?" she asked, unsure of his truthfulness. "Alright then, come on." She motioned for him to come back inside. Troy reluctantly followed her. He would just have to lessen the level of his dancing abilities. He would have to make them reject him.

**Review and I will update! The next chapter is going to be HUGE. It will be long and incredibly juicy, I promise. I know I haven't updated in a while so the next chapter will be a huge treat for you guys! Please review. **


	7. Gone With Weakness

**Gone With Weakness**

Pain. Daggers thrown into his body in staggering anguish. Holding on for one last breath. Hot blood under breaking, torn skin. Moist liquid with deepening red color, lying in a pool on his bent hand. Damp hair in a repeatedly hit scalp. Darkness overcoming his eyes. Vivid blue is now a myth to his eyes.  
Black lights.  
Lively death.  
Vibrant throbbing.  
Swirling colors leading to a tunnel of nothingness. Emptyness. Gone

_Six hours earlier…_

"What am I getting myself into?" Troy muttered as he strode down the hallways of East High. A giddy Gabriella walked next to him with joyous steps. Steps that transmitted the elegance of her movement.

"They are looking forward to this," Gabriella told him as they approached the ballroom. It lay feet away from them, covered in clean oak wood and remarkably white walls. Sitting inside would be people of importance. People who could possibly understand him and the talent he obtained.

"I don't know about this," he said, unsure of himself for the first time since he arrived in Los Angeles. He couldn't face rejection from these people. What if he wasn't nearly as good as he thought? He couldn't bare that.

"Don't chicken out on me," Gabriella replied teasingly. Troy smiled, uncomfortably, rubbing his hands together in concern. "Hey, don't worry," she said noticing his uneasiness.

"I'm not worried," Troy said, attempting to maintain the dignity he once had with her. Weakness was enemy. The enemy that could destroy him anywhere and at any place. What if this was the end of his dancing career? Could he live with that?

But could he live without knowing if he was good enough? Could he spend the rest of eternity without the praise that he longer for? For someone to tell him that he could excel in something and that he, Troy Bolton, meant something. It was time to find out.

"Let's do this," he said, more to himself than to Gabriella.

The two entered the colossal room. Their footsteps echoed bouncing off the walls and into the ears of the three people that stood inside, engaging in casual conversation. At the sight of him, one of them swallowed heavily. Doubt. He already knew how to read that in other's eyes. The man had a full head of gray hair with fair skin, covered by an offsetting black suit. He sat down, fixing the cuffs on his blazer. Troy approached them. Gabriella was still next to him, unaware of the situation.

"Mr. Forrester, Miss McDermouth, and Mr. LeCroy, I give you Troy Bolton," Gabriella introduced, relaxing Troy with her every word. Gabriella's voice was the only trace of normalcy left in the room. She sent him a reassuring smile as she took a seat near the three people. The tallest and most authoritative of the three stood up. Gabriella had said his name before: LeCroy. LeCroy embodied the enemy.

"Very well then," he said, arising from his seat. He observed and evaluated Troy's rugged appearance. "Bolton, is it?" he asked, knowing well what the answer was. Troy nodded sternly. "Miss Montez has expressed that you have some concealed dance talent. We would like to see that." He explained.

"What would you like me to do?" Troy asked. He later added a more respectable approach to his words. "Sir?"

"Free style," the woman answered. She had a slightly loose bun holding her voluminous red-orange hair. She had a soft and natural look on her face, that was seen as she stared at Troy's eyes, but her emotion was less easy to understand. It was almost like intrigue. As if she wasn't sure what to make of the sluggish boy before her. "What do you specialize in?"

"Hip hop really," Troy said.

There were chuckles from the council and Gabriella's face had a spark of fright. Her lips were held tight in a thin line. She was beginning to doubt him, too. And he hated that. He would prove them wrong. "I've also danced contemporary," he lied.

"Really? What training do you have?" LeCroy said. Forrester looked up at this. He had been clumsily scribbling in his notebook, writing down his observations. He waited Troy's answer. Troy couldn't lie on this one and he was almost sure he would be sent away after his response.

"None," he said.

A clever smirk toyed on Forrester's lips. He put the pen and notebook down and focused all his attention on Troy, seemingly interested. Troy hesitated with his speech. "None, you say?" LeCroy questioned. "I'm afraid you are not eligible for…"

"Let him dance, Charles," Forrester said, interrupting Troy's dismissal. "Let the boy show us what he can do. Miss Montez didn't bring him here out of pity, now, did she?" He added. Gabriella shook her head, smirking at Forrester.

"My colleague has expressed that he would like to see you dance. So let's see it. Contemporary, you say? Go, then. Montez, music," said Charles LeCroy. He looked as if he could determine the outcome of the meeting. He looked like he knew Troy had no capability for dance and that nothing he did would slightly impress him. And so even though Troy had never danced contemporary or ballet in his life, he would blow them away. That, he promised to himself and to Gabriella.

Troy removed the shoes and the jacket he had been wearing, taking the most elegant stance he knew. The music began, classic, inspirational, swift and smooth. A tune that he was sure he could move to.

And so he began. Feeling every detail, every impeccable movement. He was deeply satisfied with how he was performing. His flexibility was an advantage with the moves he was presenting. The lines were clean, the air moves, breathtaking. He turned his body in a manner he hadn't known he could do. And the anger was unleashed. All he felt for Charles LeCroy along with his father and all the people who had doubt in their mind when facing him. He jumped so high, releasing a high toe-touch, coming down in a subtle ripple.

Only when he heard the music stop and Forrester's accommodative clap did he stop. His blue eyes followed their faces trying to predict what they had to say, but he was too engulfed in the previous moments that he could not focus on the three people sitting in the table in front of him.

He glanced over at Gabriella, shock visible in her face. She smiled like he had never seen. Troy sighed with exhaustion, looking down at his feet.

"Potential," LeCroy said.

"Incredible potential, Mr. Bolton." Forrester added.

"A choreographer's dream, Bolton. If this is what you are capable of without proper training, I can't fathom what will become of you after years with us at East High School," McDermouth said, finalizing his acceptance.

"Welcome to the dance department of East High School, Troy Bolton," Forrester said, twisting his pen in his hands and gathering his papers in order to depart.

The council left, congratulating Troy and notifying him of his new schedule. All the while Gabriella stayed in her seat, crossing her arms and smiling at him. After how obnoxious he had been the days before, Troy couldn't explain her emotion, but he couldn't deny that he enjoyed it. The doors closed loudly behind Troy but he was too focused on Gabriella and she was on him. Their eyes spoke to each other.

Troy raised his hand, imitating a gun and blew at the top of his index finger as if to blow the smoke away from a gun. Gabriella laughed at him. "Smokin' hot," Troy said of himself. "I'm too sexy for this school. Too sexy for this school," he began to sing.

"What on earth are you doing, Bolton?" Gabriella said in between laughs. "Good job," she commended him as she stood from her seat. "As I promised, you get a ride," she said, handing him the jacket he had left on the ground.

"Wait, woah," Troy said. Gabriella turned, confused at his words. "The ride was just for coming to this audition thing. I have to get something else for getting into the school," He said, tying his shoes, mischief in his eyes.

"What are you talking about?" she said, pulling her own East High sweater over her head.

"Ice cream. That's what I'm talking about," Troy stated, leaving the ballroom and walking into the halls of East High. He felt so much more different now than he had a few minutes ago. He felt invincible at this point. He was good enough. He was talented enough. He had what it took to make it. Just what Joe had told him.

**HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..**

"I can't believe you convinced me to go all the way downtown to buy some ice cream," Gabriella said as she was handed her Chocolate fudge brownie ice cream. She licked the sides, preventing it from dripping onto her hand.

"Don't lie. You know you wanted some," Troy responded, licking his own chocolate ice cream cone. Gabriella took her wallet out from her purse to pay causing Troy to hesitate. "I can pay," he said, already searching his pockets for any type of currency, knowing that there wasn't any. All he could find was a quarter in his back pocket.

"It's alright, Troy. This one's on me," she said, handing the man over the counter a ten dollar bill. Troy relaxed, grateful to her benevolence.

"I'll pay you back," Troy said, trying to be as courteous as possible and to redeem himself after the rough start they had had.

"What's into you, today? You're actually attempting to be nice," Gabriella asked. There was such an enormous difference from the Troy she had had such enmity with only a few days ago.

"Oh so you prefer me rough, huh? I get it. Some girls are into that stuff," Troy teased. Gabriella playfully punched his arm.

"That's not what I meant," she said, grabbing the change and putting it into her checkered wallet.

"Oh, look! They sell Pokemon cards here," he said, motioning towards the shelves in the ice cream store. He walked towards them, Gabriella curiously following him. Pokemon cards were a vital symbol of Troy's childhood. Very inexpensive little cards that gave him so much excitement and entertainment.

"You're such a dork," Gabriella said as she watched him grab a deck from the shelf.

"I haven't seen these in years. Charmander was my favorite," Troy said, lost with the merchandise before him. Gabriella couldn't help but laugh at his childishness and his infantile behavior.

"Let's go, Pikachu," she said, grabbing his arm and practically dragging him out of the store. How could someone that originally came across as a wise, know-it-all, incredibly mature jerk, be into ice cream and Pokemon cards? "Come on, it's a long walk to the car," she said.

Troy's ice cream was nearly finished, Gabriella noticed. "Why'd you do that, Gabriella?" he asked in a calm tone, becoming the serious person she knew him to be. They walked at a regular pace, passing various stores.

"What, take you away from the box of pokemon cards you were about to buy?" Gabriella asked.

Troy chuckled. "No, that's not what I was referring to, but for the record, I was not planning on buying them," he stated. Gabriella rolled her eyes, brushing off his attempt at an excuse. "No, really! You don't believe me. Fine." Troy said returning to his ice cream.

"It's okay we all have dark secrets," Gabriella said lightheartedly. Troy wanted to say the words 'more than you know', but felt that he shouldn't. Gabriella could not know anything. She couldn't know about Jack's hatred, his mother, or the fact that Troy probably wouldn't be at East High for longevity of time. She would never obtain this knowledge. "Troy?" Gabriella asked, noticing the change in behavior.

"What I was originally saying was, why did you get me into that audition?" he asked. Gabriella's mocking and sarcastic facial features vanished and were replaced by a more serious set of expressions. "I don't know. Maybe you'd be too busy dancing and have no time to come do the chores, or at least attempt to, at my house," said Gabriella. Troy let out a laugh, enjoying how good humored Gabriella was.

"Well, I don't do this often. You know, the whole thanking people, but I guess I feel compelled to say thank you," Troy managed to say.

"Well, you're welcome," she said. Gabriella's face flushed. "Hold on," she said.

"What?" Troy questioned. Gabriella vigorously searched her bag. She didn't seem to find what she was looking for. She let her bag fall on her shoulder.

"It's not here. I left my wallet at the ice cream store thanks to your Pokemon outburst," she grumbled, jokingly. "We have to go back and get it, now," Gabriella said shifting her weight so that she turned to walk the other way.

"Wait, Gabriella. The least I could do is go get your wallet. Why don't you go into some store and have fun, I don't know?" Troy said wanting to repay her for her generosity.

"You don't have to," Gabriella said.

"I'll be right back. You won't even know I'm gone," Troy said, handing her his ice cream come and jogging his way down the street towards the store. Gabriella had no time to argue; for he was long gone by the time she found an excuse.

**HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..**

The hot, humid air of Los Angeles whipped Troy's face as he jogged down the sidewalk towards the ice cream store. It was located nearly three blocks away from where he was originally walking with Gabriella. He was used to the exhaustion and the work out; it had all been part of his life in Albuquerque, but the heat was an undeniable change that was incredibly tiring. Sweat poured down his forehead and he slowed his pace, knowing that by the time he got back Gabriella would want a few more minutes to look around. That's how all girls were, no matter how different they acted or looked.

Troy neared the end of one of the brick buildings, one that looked less costly than the rest. There were a few feet in between it and another building; it was an alley. Big enough for a car and a half to fit through. And it was conveniently located on the opposite end of the ice cream store; it was a short cut.

Troy walked inside, realizing that the sky was slowly darkening. He guessed it was about six o'clock. The sky was still blue, but not as bright as it had been hours ago. Inside the alley were a garbage disposal and a few trash cans, nothing ominous. He could see the other side; there was hardly anybody there. Catching his breath, he slowed his pace.

"Hey, kid!" He heard someone say. Troy turned around but nobody was behind him. "Over here," the voice said again. His head turned as fast as lightning, trying to catch the source of the voice. His muscles tightened and his hands formed round fists. "Here," it said and it was barely a whisper. There was nothing casual about this. "Bolton," the voice echoed. Troy stepped away from the center of the alley, backing into a wall. "I wouldn't do that, Bolton," it said.

"Who are you?" Troy said loudly.

"You know me, Troy! You know who I am," the voice boomed. It began to laugh, a feverish, condescending laugh. Troy gritted his teeth, walking towards the exit. "Wait, come back, Bolton. You're not going anywhere," it said and he could feel a person's presence an inch away. Fingers were pressed into his back that sent him towards the ground. Troy's strength was great but this person, now classified as a man, had enormous amount of force. His foot collided with Troy's spine on the floor.

Troy's breath hit the road, his hands flat against it. He could not see the offender's face, for he could not turn his head. "Close your eyes, Bolton; it'll be much faster." He said, removing his foot. Troy began to get up, but failed to do it in time. He was pushed down, harder than before, his face hitting the coal black road and scratching his skin.

"Who are you?!" Troy repeated in a loud yell.

"Like hell I'm going to tell you," he said tauntingly. He circled Troy. "I'll see you around," he said, walking in the way of the ice cream store. Troy rose to his hands and knees.

"Hey, where are you going?" Troy yelled.

The motor of a car became within ear shot, seemingly closer. Headlights poured light into the alley and Troy turned to see a black Mercedes coming in his direction. The driver wasn't visible; the headlights were blinding. He began to run, but the car increased speed. The alley was too long and the car was too fast. He could feel the heat from the motor hit his ankles, but he ran faster.

His full body neared the street, and so did the car, colliding against his left hip. Troy winced in pain, his hand darting towards his hip. His legs were lifted off the floor, allowing his back to hit the glass, sending a shock of pain through him. The car did not slow down and did not lose speed, but continued down the abandoned road with Troy laying in the front. He attempted punching the glass, but that only resulted in a severely bleeding hand. Finally he rolled off, bouncing off the steel wheel and hitting the ground, his leg first. The car continued, leaving no trace of who the driver was.

Troy was alone in the middle of the forlorn road, clutching his right hand, ignoring the cruel pain in his legs. He tried to get onto the sidewalk but when he pushed his weight onto his legs, he felt as if his bones were shattering in his ankle. "Ahh!" he yelled.

"Tell your dad we said hi!" the voice came from behind him. Troy turned his whole body, lying face up on the ground. The figure stepped over him and left, creating a gust of wind to fall upon Troy's feeble body.

And so he used his good hand to drag his body away from the road. The sky was now a midnight blue; nobody could have seen what had just happened. Nobody would know who had done this to Troy. But he had a guess, and it was a good one. The man had carelessly left him with the greatest clue on his last few words: 'Tell your father we said hi'.But before he could do anything else, his eyes closed.

Darkness overcoming his eyes. Vivid blue was now a myth.  
Black lights.  
Lively death.  
Vibrant throbbing.  
Swirling colors leading to a tunnel of nothingness. Emptyness. Gone

**REVIEW if you want to find out where Gaby is, who will find Troy, will someone even find Troy, who is the person that did this, how bad are Troy's injuries. AND ALL THE REST. REVIEW! Told you it was juicy!**

**--XOXO LV**


	8. Binding Terror

**Binding Terror**

Jack Bolton entered the waiting room of the hospital. He sat, concerned, in one of the blue vacant chairs placed sporadically about. He concentrated on his hands, fumbling with them in erratic patterns. It was exceedingly warm in the lobby, or so he thought. The anxiety grew within him. Jack, not being a very tolerable person, rose from his seat and headed towards the reception.

"Where is he?" he demanded. The receptionist was taken aback.

"Calm down, sir," she advised, in a serene tone. Jack's temper did not vanish with those few words, but increased in anger.

"Where is he?" he repeated. Jack Bolton had gained the attention of all that were in the room.

"Sir, I think you should take a seat," she said motioning towards the chairs. Jack Bolton did not even bother to courteously acknowledge what she had just said. He grew angrier with every breath the woman took.

"Mr. Bolton?" A doctor in a clean white coat, with a balding head appeared from behind her. Jack's eyes darted towards him, anger visible. "Your son is recuperating. He needs-"

"Take me to him," Jack said, uncaring of the injuries the doctor would notify him of. "Now," he added, not losing his strained tone. The doctor nodded and turned into a hallway, Jack following angrily behind.

He did not show his hesitation as they neared the room in which his only son laid. His fists were tighter and his expression was harder, but the doctor could not take note of his actions, for he did not know Jack. The clean, whiteness of the walls seemed to be closing in on him. His breath grew heavier.

The call he had received a few hours ago, had no explanation. And he feared he knew the purpose of Troy's 'accident'. Troy had broken a few bones before, nothing serious or to be worried about. But this could not have been a mere crash; it had motives. He prayed that the doctors or any of the witnesses could say so, though. If anybody was curious as to Troy's incident, it could possibly be the end of Jack. Then again, it could've just been an 'accident'.

The doctor opened the light blue door revealing a young boy; his eyes closed, lying on a bed. Tubes went through Troy's nose, and his arm was slightly elevated, wrapped in a cast. His faces bore many scars, seemingly recent. All that was heard in the small room was the constant beep of a machine next to Troy Bolton. Jack inspected the injuries.

"Press the blue button on his bed if you need any assistance, Mr. Bolton," the doctor said, clipboard in hand, evacuating the tiny room, allowing Jack to be with his son alone.

He sat at the chair nearby, hands held against his face. He stared down at his feet, thinking over the situation. "God, how am I going to pay for this?" he said aloud. Finally the financial repairs that would need to be made became clear to Jack. Regardless of Troy's injuries or the cause of them, he still had to pay the fees. He still hadn't taken into account surgeries Troy may need to have. "Idiot," He muttered. "You couldn't just come home like you were supposed to?" He spoke aloud, knowing Troy wouldn't respond.

After a few minutes of evaluation, Jack made up his mind. "I'm leaving you, Troy. I can't handle you anymore," Jack told him, as he placed his hand on the cold silver knob. But before he could leave, he heard the beep of the machine become faster. He turned to see his son, blinking, but awake. His eyes were slightly swollen; a line with a crimson coloring ran through his dry lips. "You know what they said, dad?" Troy said, his throat was noticeably dry; using the word Jack hated most. He stood there, waiting for Troy to continue. Troy smirked, through his pain, acknowledging his left arm. "They said, 'tell your dad we said hi'," Troy almost whispered. Jack's face turned into a state of fright. His face was paler and his muscles weakened at the sound of those words. "So who were they, dad?" Troy said, smiling, sadness visible within him. "Just admit to it."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Jack responded, lying. All of his expressions had hesitation within them.

"Thanks," He said, nodding towards the door, the smile still had not vanished. It was bigger, mocking and taunting like he wanted it to be.

Jack for once, hesitated leaving his son like this. But it was Jack, and Jack was no saint. He walked out of the room and back into the hallway he had dreaded so much a few moments ago, realizing that he hated the little room more. Without telling the nurse or doctor or anyone he was leaving, he left. He walked out of the hospital and drove away. Into the foggy night, far away from Troy.

A single tear ran down Troy's cheek inexplicably. He always had to pay for his father's mistakes. He had to compensate for his father's childish, irresponsible actions. But he never knew it would go this far. It was Troy's life that had been at stake and nobody cared. Nobody would come pay for the surgery he could feel he needed in his hip, or any other medical bill. And his father was gone. Never coming back. But he was never there to begin with, so why should he feel sadness? Troy was grateful; he wouldn't need to depend on absolutely anybody. It was the end of Jack Bolton for him.

**HSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSM**

"He's about six feet tall, light brown hair. He was with me earlier," Gabriella said, gesticulating Troy's appearance to the cashier at the ice cream store. "Remember the Pokemon freak?" Gabriella said, somewhat jokingly. The cashier shook his head honestly. Gabriella shook hers in defeat. "Where could he have gone?" she said, heading for the exit.

The sky was pitch black and nobody was on the road. Nearly an hour ago she had heard ambulance sirens, but thought nothing of it. Nothing could have happened to Troy. She knew it couldn't have been true. He was never reliable. No matter how nice he appeared to be earlier, he had just gone off and left her here purposefully. He was most likely cozily sitting at his house, laughing at how long it was taking her to realize this.

Gabriella sighed. "Oh, wait, do you have a checkered wallet?" she asked. Before she finished her sentence, the cashier handed it to her. Gabriella thanked him with a gentle smile and exited the store, heading towards her car.

She sat in the cool black leather of her car, setting her bag in the passenger's seat, telling herself that it was a good thing: Troy's disappearance. But Gabriella could not help but wonder how he had gotten home or whether or not he had actually left her there. She did not want to believe it, but what else could have happened.

She finally started the ignition, heading towards the apartment complex her and her mother lived in. She was then reminded of their move; they were moving to a much larger home. The complex was temporary; a place to wait while their house was ready. Surprisingly, she did not want to leave. If she left, her life went back to what it was before. Study dance, think dance, watch dance, eat, occasionally sleep. With Troy here, she had more of a social life than she had ever had. Sure, she had friends, but they were as obsessed with dance as she was. But as of that moment she realized that she was glad she was not friends with Troy Bolton: he had left her downtown unaccompanied for hours. What kind of friend would do that?

Gabriella pulled up to the front of the building, handing her keys to the valet. She entered the building, tying her hair back casually. After those few seconds of relaxation she knew what she wanted to do. She wanted to go to Troy's apartment and tell him what a jerk he had been. But he wouldn't care. That wouldn't change him. She still felt compelled to tell him.

Instead of going to her floor, she went one higher. The elevator doors opened and she turned the corner towards the Bolton residence. She composed herself, rethinking what she would say to him, how she would say it, the tone of her voice. How could she have gotten him into that audition? That's how he would repay her?

Gabriella knocked repeatedly on the door and felt no movement from inside. She could not even here someone shuffling, or the tension that was present when Troy was. She knew that there was nobody inside. She turned the knob, and found that the door was unlocked. She pushed it open. "Hello?" she said repeatedly, her voice echoing. There was nobody inside, she was sure of it. So where could he have gone?

She decided to retrieve to her own apartment, dismissing Troy's childishness. He didn't deserve her concern. She pressed the button next to the metal doors of the elevator and what she saw frightened her. It was a muscular man, that resembled Troy. Most likely his father.

"Hi, Mr. Bolton, do you know where Troy is?" Gabriella said as politely as she could. The man ignored her, moving towards his apartment. "Sir?" she attempted some type of conversation.

"Look, little girl, stop sticking your nose into other people's business," he responded, entering the apartment, leaving Gabriella bewildered. Her eyes widened at the rudeness of the man. Of course that was Troy's father. She went into the elevator and returned to her home.

Gabriella entered to find her mother, sitting on the couch, laptop open and glasses on. She was working, but why here? "Mom?" Gabriella said.

"Finally you're home! It's nearly ten o'clock," she stated. Gabriella hadn't noticed the time since she had left the ice cream store. "Where have you been?" she asked, not showing much concern since her eyes were still fixed on her computer screen.

"I was downtown with Troy Bolton," Gabriella responded. Her mother finally looked at her, pulling her glasses down. "What?" Gabriella asked, expecting an answer to her mother's unusual behavior.

"Gabriella, don't lie to me," she said. Gabriella began to refute, when her mother spoke the words that answered all her questions. "Troy Bolton is in the hospital. He was in an accident earlier today," she said. Gabriella felt her throat muscles strain and her face fall.

"How do you know that?" Gabriella said, hoping that what she had said before was just a scare and not the truth. But she knew it was: the ambulance, the blood scattered on the street behind the ice cream store.

"I was at the reception when the receptionist called Jack Bolton and told him the news," she said, returning to her computer.

"Why didn't the hospital call Jack directly?" She asked.

"Because they don't have a phone," her mother said. Gabriella immediately darted for the bag she had laid on the counter minutes ago and opened the door. Her mother did not question her departure, but grabbed her own bag, closed her laptop and went after Gabriella, calling her name. She left, in a hurry towards the hospital. It was her fault that Troy had suffered that accident. If she hadn't been so careless and left her wallet, he might still be there. Possibly standing next to her, looking at her own Pokemon collection.

**HSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSM**

"Son, without that surgery, you will eventually be unable to walk. It is severely dislocated," the doctor explained to a reluctant Troy. He lay on the same bed he had, with the same exact medical tubes running through his body. The doctor placed his hand on Troy's hip. He was going to ask if it hurt him, but by the sound of Troy's scream of agony, he didn't need to. "Let me take those off," he said, pulling away the bothersome tubes from his nose so that he could fully breathe. Troy found that breathing even hurt him, at least profoundly. "I'm sure your family can pay for it," Dr. Klein added.

The pain from his hip was no longer what bothered him. "I have no family," Troy responded. His fingers tightened on the metal handles next to his bed, trying to restrain himself. "There's no one that can pay for it, doc," he added.

"I can set up a payment plan," Dr. Klein offered. Troy shook his head.

"All you could do for me is let me stay here for a few days," Troy said.

"Of course. Troy, I need your father to sign these papers for me," he said, holding out blue and yellow sheets.

"He's not my father. I told you, doc, I'm eighteen years old: I have no guardian," He said, lying. How would he explain his situation? His father had just left him earlier that night, he had no place to live, and just a few items. He had nothing he could sell to pay for the surgery and he was flooded with medical bills as it was. Who knew a cast could cost so much?

And then he remembered the accident once more. The heat from the motor of the Mercedes and the intense pain he had felt. Who had saved him from death? There had been nobody on the streets, they were completely abandoned and yet he had made it to the hospital before his limbs were further displaced. "Doc, who called?"

"What?"

"Who called the ambulance?" Troy asked, eager for an answer. The doctor shrugged.

"I don't know. A man and a woman had brought you in. You were unconscious," he explained. "They said that the ambulance didn't get there fast enough, so they brought you here by themselves," Dr. Klein elaborated.

"I want to see them," Troy said to him. The doctor's eyebrows rose almost to the top of his head.

"Tomorrow. I'm just going to leave you to rest, Troy. Too much stress is bad for you, but I'm going to need to do that surgery, and soon," Dr. Klein explained, leaving the room. Troy closed his eyes, attempting sleep but was not successful. He looked down at his left arm and tapped the cast, testing its thickness. He never thought he would think this but, he wanted to see Gabriella. For some reason, it seemed like she cared, like she could relate to him even though she was in a completely different position. He wanted to go back to the ice cream store with her and pretend like nothing was wrong for just one more hour or so. And in these thoughts, Troy Bolton found comfort. He relaxed his body and fell asleep. Calmly, for once.

Troy was in a deep sleep, but he could still feel strange warmth in his hand that had been so cold. Someone was squeezing his good arm, clinging to it. He felt an occasional tear hit it, but did not move away. He could feel who it was. That small feeling of kindness could only be triggered by one person. He tried to awaken from the dream he had been having. He squeezed his eyes, nearly sweating in the effort.

"He's waking up," she said, her sweet, melodic voice filling his ears. There was someone else in the room. It wasn't the doctor. He blinked repeatedly before focusing his vision on the fragile small girl in front of him. He looked into her big, chocolate brown eyes trying to comfort her.

"Gabriella," he said. His voice was drier than before. The lack of water was causing his voice to be rusty. Almost immediately, a water bottle was held to his lips and he drank from it until his lips were moist. He modestly turned away from it, concentrating on the feeling in his right arm.

"Troy, I'm sorry," she said.

"Gabriella, I'm going to get something eat," her mother said, leaving the two alone. She didn't need to go eat; she simply felt that Troy and Gabriella should be left alone. It was no place for her to be at the moment, so she left towards the cafeteria.

"Don't cry, Gabriella," Troy said, moving his fingers towards her face and wiping away the tears from her cheeks. She held onto his arm as he did so. A smile toyed on his lips and he let it be known. Gabriella's face was no longer hurt, but relieved. "It's ok," he said.

"You shouldn't be comforting me. You're the one with the broken body parts," she pointed out.

"Whatever," Troy said, used to the fact that nobody cared for him. "My only concern is paying the doctors, not how many broken limbs I have," he said.

"Troy, I'm sure you'll find a way," she said, caressing his shoulder, outlining his muscles with her small finger.

"No, there is no way; I don't have any money, Gabriella," Troy told her. The medicines they had given him had made him a little lightheaded therefore allowing him to reveal things to Gabriella he would never reveal.

"The doctor said that you didn't want to have the hip surgery and that you couldn't pay for it," Gabriella stated. Troy nodded, aware of what happened. "My mom volunteered to pay for it," she said.

"Gabriella, I can't take that money. You're mother doesn't owe me anything," Troy explained, unwilling to have the surgery if someone else paid for it, especially Gabriella and her mother.

"It's not about owing anything, Troy. You never let anyone help you. Don't question a good thing; we _want_ to help you," Gabriella said. The feeling was unfamiliar to Troy. It was a feeling of importance. Like he mattered to somebody else. He felt accomplished in a strange way.

"Thank you," he said.

"You can't even go to an ice cream store alone," Gabriella joked. Troy let out a small laugh, although it caused pain in his hip and in his chest. Gabriella placed her hand on his face, running her hand through his hair, pushing it away from his face. He held her hand against his face, feeling the heat it gave off. "What happened?" she asked. Troy grew alarmed, recalling what had happened. Gabriella's hand subsided by his body and he felt the need to pull her back into him, but decided not to.

"Nothing. I just got hit," he said, not wanting anymore trouble than he had already been left with.

"When my mom told me you were in an accident, I didn't know what to do. I couldn't believe it for a few seconds," she said. Troy's face was brighter, illuminated with the light of generosity from Gabriella. He slowly moved aside, careful not to move his left arm too much.

"Come here," he said, motioning towards the white sheets beside him. Gabriella placed her small body next to his, his right arm wrapped around her. She put her head against his chest, hearing his heart beat. She smiled, lightly placing her arm around his waist. Troy took in her scent smiling, holding her closer to him, scared that she would realize what he was and leave her. The right side of his body burned due to the contact with her. But it was a good feeling, it was security. Troy uncomfortably and unsurely kissed her forehead. She did not move and did not hesitate. She wanted him to, and he could feel that.

The two closed their eyes. Sleep taking over them, binding them together. Their hearts beat one after the other. When one didn't, the other did, completing each other to make one constant never-ending heartbeat, pulsating warm blood through them.

**Next chapter has more action: Troy's saviors are introduced, and he decides on huge life-changing things. More action and lots more romance in the next chapter. REVIEW if you want to see it!!And tell me if you liked that Troyella moment.**

**XOXO LV**


	9. Candles

**Chapter 8: Candles**

There was a short, but persistent mumble pronouncing itself in Troy's ears. His name was being repeated, each time more urgent than the one before. Troy in between clouds of sleep and conversation, decided it best to open his eyes and eradicate the unaccommodating mumble.

The light overwhelmed his eyes which had adapted to the darkness of sleep. Through blinking he caused the burn of the light to vanish. In plain sight he could see Doctor Klein, his spectacles at the tip of his nose, and his lips moving under his bushy grey moustache. Troy moved his hair to a side in order to clear his vision.

"Troy, some people have come to visit you," he stated courteously. The phrase that had just been spoken seemed so foreign to him. Recalling Gabriella's visit the night before he grew excited, assuming it was her this morning.

He rose, and sat in the hospital bed, the springs made a sharp sound at his movement. But as he took in his surroundings, he could not see the beautiful brown-eyed girl that had laid by him the night before. Quite the opposite, he found himself looking at two strangers that seemed oddly familiar. Their familiarity was slightly frightening in the sense that Troy was sure he had never laid eyes on those human beings before. Yet their features were exceedingly recognizable.

"These two exemplary Samaritans came to see you," the doctor said, complimenting the two other persons in the crowded room. Troy's expression of confusion did not alter in state. "The people who took you to the hospital, Troy," Klein added. Troy shifted his head, his eyes directed towards them.

Their countenance was very agreeable. He noted that the man was careful not to make contact with the woman. The woman was not aware of the man's behavior but simply smiled at Troy. Her dark red wavy hair framed her small face whose skin contrasted wonderfully with her other features. By her elegant attire and facial features, it appeared she was in her early thirties. Her eyes were a dazzling shade of blue that alarmed all those in the room. The man seemed to recoil at her beauty and was of no importance alongside her. He wore a dark grey suit with a silk tie. His hair was dark as night and slightly receding but still surprisingly thick for a man his age. With his dark physiognomy he stared at Troy with indifference. His presence was forced.

They both seemed that they were of good families and obtained large sums of money due to the way they were dressed and the form of their expressions. The woman had an admirably white blouse with long dark umpire waist jeans. Finally she spoke.

"Hi, I'm Marilyn," she held out her hand expectantly. Troy, as bewildered as he was, had no idea what to do with it, but merely shook it. In response to his hesitated greeting, she smiled encouragingly.

"Nice to meet you," Troy replied. The man behind her must have felt obligated to abide by the precedent the woman had set. He, too, held out his hand and firmly shook Troy's as he revealed that his name was Arthur.

"Well, I'll leave you all alone," said the doctor, bidding farewell as he retired from the room.

"We're so glad that the injuries weren't too severe," Marilyn said, placing her snow white hand on Troy's. The man consequently moved forward, closer to the woman. "I know this sounds strange, but you look familiar," she said, squinting her eyes to determine Troy's features better. The man looked at the round clock that hung from the wall and frowned uncomfortably.

Troy dismissed the woman's dialogue and continued with the few words he had prepared. "I wanted to thank you for calling the ambulance and all, you know," he said.

"No problem, son," said Arthur, finally allowing himself to show some compassion.

"Marilyn, I have to go," he said, implying things that Troy did not understand. Marilyn's smile finally drifted, replaced by disillusion. She nodded as he took her hands in his and lusciously kissed them.

"Well, I hope that you get better," she said, sighing in between words. Her mind was evidently still analyzing the man's exit.

"Thanks, again," Troy said facetiously. "But, before you go, can I ask you why you did it?" he inquired.

The woman was perplexed at his question. "What do you mean?"

"Why did you save me?"

"Because that's what people do for others," She explained, her wide grin returning once more. "It's not a matter of relation with the person; it's a mere matter of humanity, don't you think?" She said. Troy's eyes followed hers as he nodded in accordance. Her face abruptly changed and she hesitated with her words. She stared at his hand, not allowing herself to reveal anything by letting Troy see her. "I'm not sure if you remember anything, but I am entirely convinced, Troy, that that was not an accident," she stated. Troy nearly choked on his own breath with what she had just said.

"I do remember, Miss, but I wish you'd forget," he said. He did not seek trouble or any type of connection with his father any longer. She shook her head, stating that she would not tolerate it. "Please," Troy added.

"I'm afraid I don't understand," Marilyn said. "Do your parents know that it was purposeful?" she asked. Troy looked away, through the window next to his bed, declining to answer her question, but she was persistent and repeated her question.

"I don't have parents, Miss, my dad is gone and my mom is dead," he said and although he didn't want her sympathy she offered it anyway.

"Exactly how old are you, Troy?" she said.

"Eighteen,"

"You're lying. I'm not easily fooled," she said. Her tone was not meant for scolding but instead showed understanding. "I'll ask you again: how old are you?"

"I'll be seventeen next month," he said. The woman smiled.

"God, you're just a kid, Troy. You don't have to take on the world at your age," she advised. Troy shook his head.

"I don't exactly have a choice," he said motioning towards the hospital gear placed on his body.

The woman looked down at the watch wrapped around her left wrist and rose from the corner of the bed, where she had been sitting. "I have to go now, but I want to come back tomorrow, Troy. This conversation isn't over yet," she said, squeezing his hand and leaving him alone.

**HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM..HSM.HSM**

_Next day_

"Good morning!" Gabriella sang as she entered the room. Troy who had been contemplating and expecting Marilyn's visit, turned his head to lay his eyes on the young girl in front of him, still dressed in her leotard, with her thick curls pulled back into a pony tail. "I'm sorry I couldn't come yesterday, it's just that-"

"You don't have to give me any explanations, Gabriella," Troy said reaching for her hand. She willingly placed it in his. Unlike his cold hand, hers was extremely warm and the muscles inside it had been burning from all the dancing she had done moments ago. "What are the people at school saying?" Troy asked.

"The kids? They don't even know who you are, basically. You've only been here for nearly a month or so. But the directors did ask, and I told them," she said. "They said the offer still stands and not to worry about anything," Gabriella smiled. Her energy illuminated the small white room that encompassed them.

"Great," he said. "Why are you so happy?"

"Well, my Dad came home early yesterday from his trip!" she said, her smile widening with every syllable.

"That's good," Troy said, interjecting a comment. He selfishly thought of how Gabriella's father's arrival would eliminate the frequency of Gabriella's visits. He could not explain this sudden attachment to her, but he knew that there was one; tangible and pronounced.

"Doctor Klein said the operation was successful," Gabriella notified.

Troy was subsequently confused. "What operation? They haven't done a surgery yet, Gabriella," he explained. Gabriella motioned towards the thick bandages across his hip as evidence for the operation. "What the hell?" He said placing his hand on the cushioned bandages. He had not suspected anything during his sleep; perhaps the morphine was the cause for his deep slumber.

"The doctor said that you could go home by the end of the week. Alright, well, I have lots of homework to do and boxes to pack so I'm going to have to head home," Gabriella said, heading for the door. "Oh, wait. There's just something I have to tell you," she said slowly. Troy attempted to sit straight, but cowered at the sensation of the pain. "Late last night, I went back to your apartment to tell your Dad that you were okay. But—"

"There was no one home," he finished. "There was nothing left but an air mattress, right?" He sighed, refusing to meet her gaze and allow her to read his thoughts.

"And this CD player," she said retrieving his CD player from her bag and placing it on his glass nightstand. "There were clothes, too. It's in that bag over there," she motioned towards the chairs placed sporadically about the small hospital room. Troy sensed this wasn't all that she had to say. In her visage, he could infer that she had more questions as to the absence of his father and all of their belongings.

"Troy-"

"I don't know," He said before she could ask the question. "I don't know where he went. But he isn't here. He really never was," Troy said, staring out the window from which the sunlight reflected off of. He did not bother to interpret Gabriella's reaction. It was best if she departed at this moment; he was too ashamed to look at her.

"Troy…I," she hesitated. "I'll be back soon," she said softly, kissing his cheek lightly. Troy managed to grab the CD player and adjust the headphones in order to make them fit properly into his ears. He then pressed play, closed his eyes, and let the music carry him into a state of blithe.

I'll Catch You- The Get Up Kids

Don't worry I'll catch you

Don't ever worry

Your arms in mine

Anytime

Marilyn never came that day, or the next day or the next. For each day that went by, he listened to one song on the antiquated CD he had listened to so many years ago. The only connection he had left to his mother, and even his father. His only belonging aside from the torn clothes feet away from him. And on the last night he was at the hospital, the only day nobody came to visit him for reasons that had not been clarified, he listened to the sixth track of the CD.

Swim- Jack's Mannequin

You gotta swim  
Swim for your life  
Swim for the music  
That saves you  
When you're not so sure you'll survive  
You gotta swim  
Swim when it hurts  
The whole world is watching  
You haven't come this far  
To fall off the earth  
The currents will pull you  
Away from your love  
Just keep your head above

I found a tidal wave  
Begging to tear down the door  
Memories like bullets  
They fired at me from a gun  
Cracking me open yeah  
I swim to brighter days  
Despite the absence of sun  
Choking on salt water  
I'm not giving in  
I swim

And twenty doors opened at once although he did not see it. Dozens of voices yelled at him from afar but he only recognized them as a whisper. The answer was everywhere, but he refused to open his eyes. Darkness was seemingly inviting now that light seemed impossible. The second she walked into the room, he could feel the change although he would not admit it. He unconsciously denied himself her love. He had long forgotten that love. But in those very moments it was being revived. And at the end of that darkness there was a glimmer of light that gradually flickered faster and larger. Brighter and brighter.

"I'm sorry, Troy,"


	10. Never Harm You

Chapter 9: Never Harm You

**Dear readers,**

**I know that most of you have given up on me due to the fact that I'm not exactly consistent with my updates. But PLEASE bear with me. I will not disappoint. Thank you to all of my faithful readers and reviewers! You are the reason I continue to write!**

**---LyricalVirtue**

**DISCLAIMER: If I owned HSM why in the hell would I be writing this? In other words, I GOT ZIP, NADA, NOTHING. EXCEPT, of course, this plot line. So if I find anyone who twisted or manipulated my ideas to favor their story, I will hunt you down!!!!! :P!**

**------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

"I'm so sorry I'm late," Marilyn said as she entered the small hospital room. Troy's eyes wandered towards her face; still astonished at the eloquence of her movement as he was the first time they met. "It's just that Chad---anyway," she said dismissing her incomplete previous thought. Troy disregarded it.

"It's alright," he notified simply. Almost immediately, a frown had presented itself upon Marilyn's delicate lips. She moved closer to him.

"Troy, I came here to tell you that…" she paused and took a breath. As she released the air through her nose, a smile appeared. "I want you to come live with me and my son," she said warm and with motherly affection. Marilyn read resistance in Troy's expression and interjected: "And I'm not taking no for an answer." Troy sighed in defeat.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked.

"Because I want to," she responded, squeezing his hand. "So right this very second, we're leaving for my house," she said, gathering Troy's scattered belongings.

Since the pain had almost entirely vanished, walking was no longer a struggle for him. His pair of Michael Jordan sneakers stared at him from across the room, reminding him of the time he had received them. His attention was directed to the shoes recalling what they had meant. For a moment, he remembered it all: Joe, his father, Steven. His past in its entirety; his mother. He envisaged his mother with her milk white skin and light brown hair. Her vivid smile represented a time for him in which he could indulge in infantilism and innocence, something which he could never do again. And now all he had left to evince for his past were a secondhand pair of Michael Jordan sneakers.

"Do you want me to hand them to you?" Marilyn asked, realizing where Troy's gaze was set upon. Before he could reply, she had already handed them to him. "Should I help you put them on?"

"No; I'm fine," he lied. He did not want to abuse of her generosity although his hip had not healed entirely thus he would suffer from a slight pain when he bent to tie his shoelaces. He moved the ripped cuffs of his jeans aside as he slipped his feet into the shoes.

"What did you do to those shoes? They look like they've been run over twenty times," Marilyn commented. Troy nodded indifferently. "We can get you new ones."

"No, I like these," he said, nearly shielding his shoes in defense. "They're my basketball shoes. Remind me of the good old days, you know?" he said, offering an explanation for his random act. Marilyn nodded.

"You'll get along very well with my son," she said, resting her hand on the doorknob as to prepare herself to open it. Troy rose from the bed with slight difficulty remembering what it was like to walk; he had not endured any physical activity in the past few days. "He plays basketball, too, at Hamilton," she informed. Troy was unfamiliar with the high school.

"Will I be going there, now?"

"No, you will remain at East High. How could you expect me to pull you away from such a great opportunity, Troy? Never even think of it," she grinned widely. Her encouraging words had been something that Troy had never experienced, except when they came from Joe's mouth. There had never been someone who had wanted to ensure his success.

"Thank you, Miss," Troy said softly as they walked away from the little hospital room. A room which had changed him in so many ways. The room where he had last seen his father. And so the first door opened; there was no turning back.

**HSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSM**

It was beautiful. It was illuminated as if the sun was hidden in one of the several rooms throughout the majestically ornate house. His eyes reflected hunger and amazement as he scanned the room. He felt as if someone spoke, the echo would send the walls tumbling to pieces. He could never begin to imagine such a place.

"Well, what do you think?" Marilyn asked in her warm motherly tone. Troy turned to finally face her, taking note that the beauty of his foster mother mirrored that of her taste in home dé one word could fully epitomize the house. Spacious, elegant.

"M!" came a voice from the upper level of the house Troy and his new foster parent entered. Following it were several hurried footsteps. Troy placed his bags beside the staircase, keeping them out of the way.

"Yes?" Marilyn called, rolling her eyes.

"I can't find my shoes!" You could hear the erratic footsteps as the person searched through the rooms. Troy identified the voice as male, with its deep tone ringing through the halls. "I'm going to be late!"

"Well if you'd keep your room a bit cleaner, maybe you could find them, Chad!" Marilyn responded. The other being did not respond, for he knew he could not deny Marilyn's accusation. "Chad, why don't you come down stairs? I have someone I want you to meet."

Almost immediately a male figure pronounced itself on the stairwell. He was a few inches taller than Troy and similarly and strongly built. When he finally noticed Troy, his eyes widened in shock. "What's going on?" he said as calmly as he could manage.

"This is Troy. He's going to be living with us. Troy this is my adopted son, Chad," she said motioning for the two to shake hands in acknowledgement. Chad's expression of confusion did not alter in the least. Troy tried to give a reassuring smile.

"Nice to meet you," Troy said cordially. Chad simply nodded.

"There they are," he said glancing over Troy's soldier at a glistening, new pair of basketball sneakers. He hurried towards them and grabbed the car keys that Marilyn had previously set down. "I got to go, M," he said, kissing Marilyn's cheek. "Nice to meet you, Troy," he added awkwardly as he evacuated the premises as fast as he could. Troy sighed simultaneously with Marilyn.

"Excuse him. He's just surprised; that's all," Marilyn explained warmly. "I'll have Luther bring your things to your room. Just make yourself at home," She gesticulated towards the house. As beautiful as it was, Troy could never call it home. It didn't fit with his persona; his grungy, distorted self.

"I was wondering if I could visit a friend of mine. If that's alright with you, of course," Troy said awkwardly, not wanting to be disrespectful to Marilyn's hospitality.

"As long as you're back before night falls. The keys to the other car are on the kitchen counter. I'm trusting that you are a responsible driver," she said.

"I don't have a license. But it's alright; I'll call her and ask her to come get me," Troy added. The last thing he wanted to be in this household was a nuisance.

"_Her_? So there's a girl?" Marilyn's eyebrow cocked knowingly as she approached Troy with a clever grin. Troy's cheeks burned a bright red as he stuffed his hands into the pocket of his jeans uncomfortably. Talking openly about these sorts of things wasn't something he was accustomed to.

"We're just friends," He explained but the possibility of being something more entered his mind unexpectedly. What surprised him more was that he didn't push the thought out of his mind. What if underneath his hostility and reluctance, he could find a way to feel something for another person?

"Maybe just for now, but you never know," Marilyn said, smiling as she retrieved to her own bedroom, leaving Troy with a simple pat on the shoulder. Troy returned the smile, but still unsure of his own conflicting feelings. How was it that Marilyn read him so easily? Before he contemplated the thought any further, he reached for the phone and asked the operator for the number for the Montez residence.

**HSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSM**

"Wait, so you're living with the woman who called the ambulance?" Gabriella questioned as she took a sip of her milkshake. Troy swallowed in order to respond to her question.

"Exactly. And she has an adopted son. Chad, I think his name was," Troy informed. Gabriella nodded, a smile tugging at her lips. "What are you laughing at?"

"Nothing," she said shaking her head. "I can't leave you alone for one second can I?"

"I wouldn't want you to leave me alone anyway," he said without realizing what words had left his mouth. Gabriella shyly began slurping her straw, trying to ignore his comment. "You're just too much fun," Troy added to alleviate the awkwardness.

"You're quite entertaining as well," she said. Troy smiled; how he enjoyed her ability to make everything so blithely easygoing. There was scarcely a tense moment between the two, with the exception of their early encounters. "So I have something for you," she said, reaching into her bag that lay beside her ankles. Troy's eyes curiously followed her hands as the pulled out a CD. "Here," she said, sliding the CD across the small table.

"Troy's Mix? You shouldn't have," he said opening the case and scanning the list of songs quickly for something he noticed. There were only a few that he wasn't familiar with. "The Mixed Tape? How appropriate," he pointed out.

"I thought so," Gabriella said.

"Don't Wait by Dashboard Confessional. I must commend you on your taste, Miss Montez," he said, closing the case and putting it into the pocket of his bulky jacket.

"Why thank you, kind sir," she said, playing along with the tone of the conversation. But the conversation took on an interesting turn when another person, actually several, entered the conversation.

"Montez! What are you doing here?" said a blond haired boy seemingly their age as he sat beside them. Gabriella turned away at the touch of his hand on her cheek. "I see how it is," he said bitterly. A few other boys stood around him, equally as built.

"May I help you?" she said as politely as she could.

"Yeah, you can give me a kiss, honey," he said moving closer to her, his arm slowly enveloping her as he puckered his lips. Gabriella pushed him away. If she wouldn't have, Troy was ready to jump from his seat.

"Why don't you leave, buddy?" Troy suggested in a serene tone, indicating that he did not want any trouble. The blond boy turned to face him, noticing him for the first time. His bright blue eyes stared him down.

"Who the hell are you?" he spat, Gabriella no longer the center of his attention.

"You don't know need to know that. Look, why don't you and your friends just leave her alone?" Troy said, standing to match the blond boy in stature. His fists lay clenched by his sides. Gabriella tried to interject but both boys ignored her pleas.

"Make me," he said. That was all Troy needed to hear to start a fight. He immediately threw a punch into his stomach, knocking the air out of his opponent. The blonde boy jammed his head towards Troy's chest sending him flying at the wall. His spine hit the wall harshly and his hip could feel the consequences. From a distance, Troy could hear Gabriella yell, "Get off of him!"

Troy rose as quickly as he could, only to receive another punch. He pushed the blond boy away until the manager and a few waiters could hold them back. "Take it outside," they muttered as they struggled to throw them out of the restaurant, Gabriella chasing after them.

The blond boy and his friends headed the opposite way and Troy furiously walked down the side walk pressing his hand to his injured lips. "Troy!" Gabriella called. Troy ignored her purposefully, ashamed at his savage reaction. "Troy!" Gabriella grabbed his arm and pulled him back. "Will you calm down? I can handle myself!" she said. Troy kept his head down.

"I can walk from here," he said quickening his pace.

"What's the matter with you? Can't you just admit that you're wrong?" Gabriella said, attempting to step in front of him so that he would stop and listen. Troy tried to push her aside, but could never exert force on Gabriella, the girl who cared for him. One of the only people who was ever kind to him.

"God! I'm sorry! I said; I'm sorry." He yelled. "I'm sorry," he said in a lower tone.

"That's better," she said, taking his hand in hers tightly. The contact with his skin drained the rage from him. He steadied his breathing. "The last thing we need is for you to dislocate your hip right after surgery," Gabriella added.

"Who is he?" Troy asked, dismissing Gabriella's statement.

"Him? His name's Keller. We used to date," Troy let go of her hand quickly, staring at her, anger in his eyes. What was this feeling that was eating away at him when she had given that last piece of information? Could it have been jealousy? The idea of Gabriella with another boy, caring for another boy greatly disturbed him. "Just forget about him, okay?" Gabriella explained, immediately trying to digress from the uncomfortable subject.

"Yeah, okay," Troy responded in accordance.

"Hey; he doesn't mean anything," she said soothingly, taking his hand once more lovingly as she always did. And then she placed a soft, delicate kiss on his cheek that tore at him but healed him at the same time. Just a simple kiss that relaxed every muscle in his body.

**I know there wasn't much in this chapter. The next one will introduce Gabriella's father; a verrryyy interesting character. And of course the Troyella relationship will continue to grow and Keller's character will develop as well. Oh you are all in for a BIG SURPRISE! Thank you for reading and please review! **

**XOXO**

**LV**


	11. Blue Eyes

**Chapter 10: Blue Eyes**

_A week later…_

Birds flying high  
You know how I feel  
Sun in the sky  
You know how I feel  
Breeze driftin' on by  
You know how I feel  
It's a new dawn  
It's a new day  
It's a new life  
For me  
And I'm feeling good

Fish in the sea  
You know how I feel  
River running free  
You know how I feel  
Blossom on a tree  
You know how I feel  
It's a new dawn  
It's a new day  
It's a new life  
For me  
And I'm feeling good

Feeling Good, Michael Buble

"Like a date?" Marilyn beamed, excited at the thought. Troy rolled his eyes and shook off her assumption.

"No, M, not a date!" he defended. Her eyebrows raised immediately in disbelief. "It's not a date!" he repeated as she shrugged and smiled, showing that she believed the contrary. He bit his lip. The thought of a romantic interest in Gabriella was somewhat appealing to him. A smile played on his features as the thought entered his mind. "It's not!"

"Alright, alright," she said, rolling her eyes.

"We're just hanging out," Troy pointed out. "She's my friend," he said. But could she be more? Would he like there to be more? He remembered that day in the hospital, when she had come to lay with him. How no matter how destroyed he as physically and emotionally, just her presence and the feel of her skin against his had been enough to heal him.

"Whatever floats your boat, mister. Be home by six though, because we're having a big family dinner with my sister and her husband and son," she said retreating to the kitchen where she had been helping Luther peel potatoes for the dinner.

"Dinner? Like formal dinner?" Troy questioned, somewhat shuddering at the thought.

"Not formal, just nice," she said. "It'll be fine, I promise. I just thought I'd introduce my new son to the family," she declared.

Troy's eyes widened in gratuity. "You're adopting me?" Marilyn nodded with a subtle smile on her face. "M, that's great!" he said, hugging her. She laughed.

"Get out of here. Don't you have a date you have to get to?" she teased as he shook his head about to refute. But instead, he grabbed his new light blue jacket and left, bidding goodbye to his new brother as he evacuated the house. Was this what it felt like? To be part of a family; it was all he ever wanted. And here it was. The emotion stirred inside of him, bursting through his skin. He smiled to himself, something he rarely if ever did. _A family_, he repeated to himself.

**LVLVLVLVLVLVLVLVLVLVLVLVLVLV**

"I am amazed, Miss Montez," Troy said, running his hand through the stacks of CD's Gabriella had piled in her closet. He scanned through them smiling when he found a familiar album. They both sat on the carpet, analyzing the musical talents of several artists.

"You know, sometimes I buy a CD just because the album cover is so great," Gabriella admitted. Troy rolled his eyes at her.

"I wish I had that luxury," he said as he tossed a CD at her and she smiled.

"Thriving Ivory," she narrated. "This is a great album, I must say. I wasn't sure about the vocals at first but it grows on you. Feel free to borrow it, Bolton," she said as she threw it back at him. Troy smiled appreciatively.

"The Glass Passenger. This is one of my favorite albums of all time," Troy said.

"Mine, too," she said. "Truth or Dare?"

Troy laughed at her childishness. "Let's go with Truth. You are so seventh grade, loser," he teased. She giggled as well. Her smile felt so warm to him. The way she spoke, the way she carried herself. And it was all for him to enjoy.

"Have you ever loved anyone?" she said. The smile on Troy's face slid out of place and he looked down at his hands. He played with them nervously, unsure if he wanted to answer Gabriella's question. He knew the answer; he had loved his mother. And he still did, even though she was gone and he would never be able to see her again. He closed his eyes, imagining her and he smiled again.

"My mom," he said. Gabriella put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "She's gone though," just as Gabriella was about to apologize he interjected, "It's okay. I don't know why I tell you these things, Gabriella. I never tell anyone," he pointed out. She moved closer to him, sitting next to him so that he could feel her body heat. He could feel her sweet breath against him. "Truth or dare?" he asked. She smiled, looking up at him.

"Dare," she whispered.

"Kiss me," he whispered back.

And in the silence of the closet, hidden from the rest of the cruel world, with nothing between them but The Glass Passenger, Gabriella laid her delicate hand upon the rough skin of his cheek. She looked at him for a moment, at his sad, brilliantly blue eyes. Noticing his features up close, taking in his presence. And finally she pressed her tender lips upon his. And she kissed him. It was something that she hadn't expected, yet it was everything she had imagined. Only their lips were in contact, but her body was on fire, and his swelled with longing for her. Just as she pulled away, he placed his hand on her soft curls and pulled her in for another deep kiss. He held her affectionately in his arms, wanting nothing but to stay in her closet forever.

LVLVLVLVLVLVLVLVLVLVLV

Chad burst into his room and threw himself on the bed, bouncing with the springs. "So, how was it?" he said.

"What are we, two fifteen year old girls gossiping over our latest crush?" Troy said, kicking his shoes off and tossing them in his closet.

"So you admit you have a crush on her?" Chad said. Troy hesitated but didn't respond. A clever smirk appeared on his face. "Oh, my man, you did it!" He said, playfully punching his shoulder.

"I didn't do anything," Troy answered.

"M!" Chad called. "It was a date!" Chad said, chuckling. Troy covered his mouth. He wasn't ashamed, he was the total opposite. He was filled with pride and all he wanted to do was run back to Gabriella and hold her once more. But it had taken him years to build his invincible façade. His tough, indestructible personality. And he didn't want people to view him as vulnerable, even though he was entirely weak in the presence of Gabriella. This was what he wanted more than anything.

**LVLVLVLVLVLVLVLVLV**

Chad and Troy stood awkwardly in their black pants and button down shirts. Their cologne gave them an appealing odor and their neatly combed hair gave them elegance. Marilyn smiled at her boys as she went to open the door. Troy nudged Chad and Chad elbowed him back. Marilyn turned back before she turned the knob and mouthed the words 'Stop it'. She pulled the handle to reveal a family of three.

Troy's jaw dropped as he laid eyes on the boy. He had striking blonde hair and a knowing smirk. He clenched his teeth as he stepped inside. "Keller, aren't you handsome?" Marilyn said as she hugged her nephew.

Troy shook his head and looked over at Chad and saw that he had plastered a fake smile on his face. "You knew about this?" he whispered to Chad. Chad nodded and looked at him apologetically. "You have got to be kidding me," Troy said, imitating his brother's artificial smile.

"Henry, don't you look wonderful?" Marilyn said addressing the older man. She finally looked at her sister and hugged her. "Beth, I haven't seen you in a while," she said. Luther closed the door behind them all. The woman was what caught and captured Troy's full attention. Her milk white skin and light brown and blonde hair swirled in simple short curls, bouncing on her shoulders. She had magnificent blue eyes, and he felt that she was already family.

"Keller, this is my new son, Troy, and you already know Chad," she said. Keller smirked as he shook their hands and greeted them. Beth approached Troy. Her smile faded a little when she laid eyes on him. "Troy?" she said, having trouble with the word. "You're a handsome boy," she said and hugged him.

"Thank you," he managed to say.

**REVIEW LIKE CRAZY BECAUSE I HAVE A GREAT IDEA FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER!**


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